


Miss Fix-It

by Hookedonapirate



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Humor, Mature Topics and Language, Parody, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23005162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hookedonapirate/pseuds/Hookedonapirate
Summary: Miracle worker. Relationship Guru. Savior.These are just a few of her monikers, but most people have taken to call her Miss Fix-It. Helping broken-hearted women get back together with their former boyfriends is her specialty. How does she do it, you ask? Simple—she becomes his date from hell so he’ll realize what a catch he had before he let her go.Emma Swan is an expert at fixing relationships, it’s just too bad she’ll never have one of her own.Her particular set of talents is tested, however, when a cheating ex-girlfriend requests her services. Emma’s reluctant at first. It’s not an easy task to make someone seem like a catch when they’ve cheated, but the potential client is an emotional wreck desperate to get her former boyfriend back before he heads back to England. Besides, Emma Swan never backs down from a challenge. They don’t call her Miss Fix-It for nothing. She’ll find a way to make him wish he was back in his ex-girlfriend’s arms, no matter what it takes. If only she can squash the feelings she develops for him and stop breaking her rules.Captain Swan AU with a side order of Snowing.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 37
Kudos: 131
Collections: Captain Swan Movie Marathon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I shouldn't be starting any more stories, but I was rewatching a movie I saw a long time ago, starring David Boreanaz, called Mr. Fix-It and I had to write my own version of it. I also did a gender swap because David's character was just too Emma Swan to not write it that way. So this is pretty much My Best Friend's Girl meets How to Lose a Guy in 10 days. I was originally going to write this for Captain Swan Movie Marathon, but I just couldn't help myself or wait to share it!
> 
> Some of the ideas in the story regarding relationships and love may seem stretched or would never happen in real-life situations, so please keep in mind, this is pure fiction, meant for entertainment purposes only. 
> 
> A big shout out to ultraluckcatnd for beta reading and to onceuponaprincessworld for letting me share my ideas with her!

“Thank you.” There’s a rare appreciation in Emma’s tone as she steps inside, offering up a slight smile at the stranger holding the door open for her. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a downward nod, his smile mirroring hers. 

He’s easy on the eyes and evidently a gentleman, doting on the pretty brunette attached at his arm who’s neither surprised nor offended by the polite gesture he’s offering another woman. Or at least, she doesn’t appear to be. 

Emma looks back, peering through the glass doors to admire the happy couple as they make their way down the sidewalk. The man places his hand on his date’s back as he kisses her temple, and the woman leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Emma smiles at the palpable love and affection they show each other before disappearing from her view.

Sometimes Emma wonders what it would be like to have something like that. But then the reality bomb explodes in her face, reminding her of the love she’d lost, the love that ruined her life. She’s reminded that she’s just a lonely twenty-eight-year-old who’s never truly been happy. Well, she was once, but it was too short-lived to count for anything. The memories make her stomach churn, her smile quickly fading into a frown. 

Shaking the thoughts away, she spins around on her heels, her bright, fire red stilettos clicking on the floor, golden curls bouncing around her shoulders as she looks around, searching for the dining area. She doesn’t need the hard work, the sacrifice or the baggage that tends to accompany relationships. She doesn’t need the heartache. Which is why she’s here at Juliet. The name of the restaurant is a bit ironic, though, considering she’s no Juliet, nor is she looking for her Romeo. 

Her eyes circle around the dining area until she spots the man she immediately recognizes from the photo. His face is buried in his phone but he has the same brown, curly hair and handsome profile. 

Emma approaches his table with slow, uncertain steps, an apprehensive expression etched in her features. “Graham?” 

He peers up from his phone, his eyes immediately lighting up when he sees her. He springs up from his seat to greet her and sticks out his hand, flashing an easy smile. “Emma…”

His cologne is a little too strong and she almost chokes on the vapors as she slips on a smile and slides her palm in his. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets in a warm tone as he shakes her hand. His grip is timid and shaky, and his palm is a bit sweaty, but she can tell he’s nervous, so it’s par for the course. “Wow, you look...” his words trail off when he releases her hand, his eyes moving up and down to appreciate her form, “...much prettier than I expected.” 

“And you’re more handsome than I expected,” she compliments with a cheeky grin. “Photos from the internet can often be—”

“Fake? Outdated? Photoshopped?” he says, pulling out a chair for her.

“Exactly,” she laughs and sits down, scooting her chair up to the table as he reclaims the seat across from her. She sets her clutch purse on the table and can’t help but notice the booth to the right, where a couple is sitting on the same side of their table. She hates when couples sit on the same side of the table at a restaurant; it’s just sketchy and weird. The only time this should be acceptable or appropriate is if they were on a double date. But this couple is clearly not. The man is cozied up comfortably with his date—who, not to mention, appears to be half his age—with his right arm wrapped around her as he whispers in her ear, the wedding band on his left hand resting on the table, glinting in the soft, luminous light. Emma can’t tell if his date is also wearing a ring or not, because she’s sitting on the other side of him, but it’s highly unlikely. She looks too young to be married, but then again Emma was only eighteen when she eloped. That’s a different story for another time though.

“What would you like to drink?” the waitress asks, pulling Emma from her reverie.

Feeling a desperate need for some liquid courage, she peels her eyes from the couple to address the waitress. “I’d love some Moscato, please.” Even in her early twenties, she never drank wine or any alcohol really, but then she discovered its value as a social lubricant and how much easier it is to perform her job when she drinks, so she forced herself to develop a taste for it.

When the waitress leaves to fetch the bottle, Emma rests her hands in her lap as she kicks off the conversation. “So, tell me, what do you do for a living, Graham?” 

Graham places his arms on the table and joins his hands together, his nervous demeanor melting away. “I’m a police officer, hoping to be a detective someday.” 

“Hm,” Emma hums in genuine interest. “A detective, huh? So, you must be good at solving crimes, then? What can you tell me about the couple at the table next to us?” she asks, nodding toward them.

“I said, _someday,”_ Graham chuckles. “I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but I’ll humor you. The man is either cheating or just recently divorced,” he says, without even glancing at the other table. 

“How can you tell?”

“For one, spouses don’t sit next to each other at a restaurant, they sit across from each other and gaze into each other’s eyes and wait to cuddle up on the sofa in the privacy of their own home like normal people. And two, he has a ring on his finger, but she doesn’t.”

Emma turns her head and stretches her neck, trying to see over the man. “How can you tell she’s not wearing a ring?”

“I noticed when they sat down. Besides, she looks young enough to be his daughter, she’s way too young to be married.”

“I know, right?” Emma agrees with a strained laugh, pointing a finger at him. “You’re going to make a fine detective one day, Officer Graham.”

He blushes, a nervous laugh escaping his throat as the waitress returns. After she drops off the requested bottle of wine, Emma brings the wine glass to her lips, appreciating the heady fragrance and the well-balanced mixture of sweetness and bitterness on her tongue as the liquid glides down her throat. “What about you, Emma? What do you do for a living?”

“I fix up houses,” she answers simply, setting her glass on the table.

“Ah, so you’re like a handyman, then?”

“Handywoman,” she corrects. “My dream is to start my own reality show like the Property Brothers.”

He lifts a flirty brow. “A woman who’s good with her hands? I like that.” 

Emma blushes and holds up her open palms, a sly grin curving her lips. “Believe me, I’ve worked wonders with these things.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” he says with a smirk, shifting in his seat. “So, how did you get into that line of work?”

“When I was eight, I got bored one day, so my grandpa gave me a hammer and told me to go play.” 

Graham looks at her, wide-eyed, his jaw falling open.

Emma laughs. “I’m joking. My grandparents were house flippers long before house flipping became popular and they’re the ones who raised me, so handiwork sort of became second nature to me.”

“Ah, I see,” he says before taking a sip of what she determines is whiskey, based on its distinct, yeasty smell and amber-brown liquid.

“So, tell me, Graham, if you don’t mind me asking—how is a guy like you single?”

He chuckles and sets down the tumbler, rejoining his hands on the table. “Well. I’ll be honest, Emma, I have a fear of commitment.”

Emma raises a brow toward her hairline. “Oh really? I have to say, based on your Zoosk profile, you strike me as a guy who’s into something more than a casual fling.”

Graham reaches for his drink again and curls his hand around the glass as he stares vacantly into the tumbler. “Well, I used to think I could be in a serious relationship. I was dating this woman I really liked, but things just went way too fast.” He glances at Emma, guilt clouding his face. “She talked about getting married and having kids, and I’m just not ready for all that yet. I’m still young, you know?” he says before taking a sip of his drink.

Emma nods in understanding and crosses her arms on the table, leaning toward him. “Well, since you felt comfortable sharing that with me, can I let you in on a little secret?”

Setting his drink down, he mirrors her position and leans over the table so their faces are only a few inches apart. “Of course.”

“I don’t do commitments either. I don’t like to be tied down…” a cheeky grin overtakes her face as she adds, “well unless I’m being tied down in bed. I like to live in the moment.”

He smirks, discernibly aroused by her confession. “Well, then we want the same thing.”

Emma nods in agreement, even though she’s not buying it, and throws back her wine like it’s hard liquor, gulping it down quickly before setting the glass down on the table and wiping off her mouth. “So, what do you say… wanna get outta here?”

She doesn’t have to ask him twice before he’s tossing some cash on the table to pay for their drinks, before he’s rising from his chair and offering his hand. “My place?”

She glances at his hand briefly before lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. “Perfect.” She grabs her purse and slips her hand in his, rising from the table. She’s feeling warm and slightly buzzed as they head toward the exit doors, his hand resting on her back. Alcohol always makes this so much easier. 

Once outside, his arms are around her and his lips are on the shell of her ear while they’re moving quickly but clumsily, and she’s giggling when his beard tickles her skin. Before they make it to his vehicle parked in front of the restaurant, she tugs on his sleeve to stop him in his tracks. 

He removes his lips from her ear and pulls away slightly, lifting a questioning brow, resting his hands on her hips. 

“Before we go to your place, I have to be upfront with you about something.”

“Okay,” he nods, waiting for her to continue.

“I failed to mention this in my profile, but... I only do one night stands.”

“Oh, uh… that’s cool,” he says, but she can tell by the way he removes a hand from her hip and scratches his head and the uncertainty in his eyes that he’s not being completely honest with her. Or himself. “I’m totally down for a one-nighter.” 

Emma's shoulders rise and slump with relief as she flashes a toothy grin. “Okay, well now that I know we're on the same page, I do have a few rules you should know about.”

He nods, urging her to go on. She hasn't scared him off yet, and instead, he seems to be intrigued. 

“I don’t do any type of intimacy. So no kissing or cuddling, no foreplay,” she pauses when he furrows his brows in disappointment, his smile quickly dimming, “and this next rule is very important…”

“What’s that?” he asks, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You have to wear a pillowcase over your head as you fuck me. I can’t risk getting attached to anyone.” Emma has to suppress a smirk when she sees the doubt clouding his eyes. “Oh and one more thing…”

He forces a small smile. “I’m afraid to ask…” 

She can tell he’s not nearly as interested as he was before, so what she’s about to say will definitely push him over the edge. She’s sure of it. 

She leans in closer, whispering in his ear. “You’re my second date tonight, so if I’m already leaking cum before you enter me, that’s why.”

Graham quickly removes his hand from her hip to cover his fake coughs. “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a cold coming on and I don’t want to get you sick, so I’ll have to take a rain check.” 

She waves off his words with a flick of her hand. "Oh, it's okay, I don't mind. Who knows what other ailments—or diseases for that matter—I contracted from the other guy anyway," she laughs. “I don't believe in condoms. Or any type of contraceptives for that matter."

Emma has never seen a man hightail away from her so fast in her entire life. Not even that one time when she told a guy she was on a first date with that she would cut off his balls if he ever so much as looked at another woman. 

She smirks as she watches Graham jump into his car, the tires squealing as he peels away from the curb, racing down the street. 

Emma turns on her heels and casually strides over to her car, thoroughly satisfied with how the date ended as she digs into her purse for her phone. She gets in her car and waits for her screen to light up. 

Three... Two... One…

Like clockwork, her phone buzzes and she answers it, bringing the phone to her ear. “Emma Swan.”

“You’re a freaking genius! I don’t know what you did or said to Graham, but he just texted me and wants to get back together!” 

Emma looks at her fingernails, admiring the manicure she'd gotten earlier after receiving a paycheck from her newest client. “I didn’t do anything. He just needed a little reminder of how hard it is to find someone like you, that’s all. Remember, Kaitlyn, you’re a catch. I just helped him realize that.”

“Oh, Emma, thank you, thank you, thank you! A million times thank you!” she cries into the phone. 

“Well now that he's reaching out to you, remember to dial down the intensity, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Kaitlin asks, confusion evident in her tone.

“I mean, he told me the reason why he broke up with you is because you were moving too fast for him. You have to give him time to catch up with you. But don't worry, he'll get there eventually. You just need to move at a slower, more natural pace to get him where you want him to be. Otherwise, you'll be calling me up a month from now, asking for my help again, but I never do the same job twice, got it?”

“I got it, but you have nothing to worry about. I won't screw this up again, I promise.”

Emma hopes so both for their sakes. All of her first attempts have so far proven to be successful, with the exception of one case (it's not Emma’s fault the guy turned out to be gay), but a second attempt would just be wasting her time. If a relationship doesn't work out the second time around, that usually means it wasn't meant to be. 

“Okay, just remember what I told you and you'll be fine.”

“Okay, I will,” Kaitlyn says before there's a brief pause. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have to go. Graham’s calling me. Thanks again!”

After the call ends, Emma tosses the phone in her purse and inserts the key in the ignition. When the engine roars to life, she turns on the radio and pulls out of her parking spot, looking forward to changing into pajamas, lounging on the couch and watching Point Blank. She looks forward to sleeping in her bed all alone and pleasuring herself with her battery-operated friend without worrying about having to impress anyone in the sack. And the next morning she’ll wake up refreshed and trot off work like she does every day, waiting for the next distressed woman to show up at her office in a mess of tears, begging Emma to help get her man back. 

And she’ll agree to it because it’ll take her mind off of her own lonely, depressing life and allow her to focus on someone else’s problems. She not only helps women repair their broken relationships but, unlike broken pipes, she fixes them quickly and efficiently with no clean up required. She does it with a smile on her face and her heart locked up tight because she’s a professional and she's amazing at what she does. 

But hey, they don’t call her Miss Fix-It for nothing, right?

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“You’re sure you don’t mind watching it again? I heard it’s one of the scariest movies of all time.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s the scariest, but it’s definitely scary. I can handle it,” Emma says confidently into the phone as she pulls into the parking lot of her friend’s apartment building. “Can you?”

“Are you kidding? I love scary movies. I was thrilled you suggested it for our date. If I get too scared though, I wouldn’t mind you wrapping your arms around me to comfort me,” he says in a flirty tone.

Emma rolls her eyes and forces a laugh. “Believe me, after the dressing room scene, you’ll need to be held.”

“Really? What happens during the dressing room scene—actually, don’t answer that. No spoilers.”

“I promise, no spoilers.”

“Okay, do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay, I’ll just talk your ear off in the car.”

He chuckles. “Hey, I don’t mind. I like a woman who speaks her mind. My ex was always so quiet and reserved. She never told me what she was thinking and it drove me nuts. I’m not a mindreader.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me,” Emma claims, suppressing a mischievous tone as she shuts off the engine. “I don’t mind making a little noise. Or a lot of noise when necessary,” she adds in a seductive tone. “I do have to warn you, though, I can get a little too vocal at times.”

“Are you kidding? I love a vocal woman. It means she’s not afraid to express herself. You can get vocal with me anytime, baby doll.”

Emma can hear him winking over the phone and has to refrain from rolling her eyes again, or vomiting, as she gets out of the car and slams the door shut. They haven't been on one date yet and he’s already calling her _baby doll._ “I’ll meet you at the cinema, say 7:15?”

“Great. Can’t wait. See you then.”

“I can’t either.” This will be the second time today she’s been to the cinema to see this damn movie. In fact, she just came from there, but hey, she has to be prepared for tonight. “I’m looking forward to our date,” she exclaims promptly, striding down the walkway to the apartment building while forcing a small smile to make her enthusiasm sound believable. A smile that immediately disappears once she ends the call and throws the phone in her purse. Her grandmother always said, _people can hear a smile through the telephone, so always greet them with a smile._ She was referring to business calls, especially when she was dealing with tenants of either rental houses or apartment buildings she owned, who _couldn’t_ (or didn’t like to) pay their rent on time. In this case, however, it's a business call her grandmother would’ve never imagined if she were still alive. Emma sashays up the porch steps, and as she enters the key code to the building, her phone dings in her purse. She opens the door while digging into her bag to retrieve it.

**MM: Are you here yet?**

Emma rolls her eyes, a smile lighting up her face, and this time it’s a genuine one, despite being slightly annoyed. She’d just talked to her friend ten minutes ago on her way here, but Mary Margaret said she had some big news to share, and that woman can only withhold information for so long. Especially if she’s super excited, which is how she sounded over the phone. Emma looks up briefly to see the elevator doors sliding open before her eyes quickly return to her screen. She starts typing a message as she races to the elevator before it closes again.

“Ooof.” Her phone falls from her hands and hits the carpeted floor of the lobby as she slams into a solid mass.

Strong hands are gripping her arms to keep her from falling and she looks up, her gaze connecting with the most drowning, most mesmerizing, most beautiful deep ocean blue eyes she's ever seen in her life. She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her lungs, but it’s not because of the collision.

“Easy, love.” A smooth British accent fills her ears, tearing her from the hypnotic trance she’s in. 

It’s not until she peels her eyes from his when she notices the charming grin gracing a pair of perfectly soft, exquisite looking lips. She also notices he’s standing in the elevator entrance to keep the doors from closing. Even when he releases her arms to bend over and pick something up from the floor, he kicks back his foot to hold the doors open. After he rises, he places a firm hand on the elevator entrance while her phone is extended to her with the other hand.

Right. Her phone. She had temporarily forgotten she had dropped it during the collision.

“Uh… sorry, I...” she stutters as she takes the device, her heart fluttering as her fingertips lightly brush his. She shakes her head to get a grip on reality again because for some goddamn reason, her voice decided to betray her. But maybe it’s because she has a modest-sized list of qualities she finds attractive in a man, and his distinguishable qualities have so far checked all of her boxes.

Blue eyes that rival the beauty of the ocean. _Check._

A heart-melting (or panty-melting, or in this case both) smile. _Check._

Sexy British lilt. _Check._

Messy dark hair that looks like he’s just been thoroughly fucked while remaining picture perfect. _Check._

Cologne with a hint of spice that she can detect as she passes him to step onto the elevator; it’s a subtle fragrance, yet very enticing. _Check._

A gentleman based on the assumption that he’s been holding the door open for her since he saw her rushing for the elevator. _Check._

Scruff on his chin that she imagines would feel amazing on her lips (or between her thighs). _Check, check and check._

“Thank you. I guess I shouldn’t be texting and walking,” she says with a strangled laugh as she presses the button of her floor, watching it light to avoid getting lost in his eyes again. To ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Which is stupid because she never gets intimidated by men. She has a mile-high fortress surrounding her heart and she prefers to keep it that way.

“Aye, that might be a good idea,” he chuckles, scratching behind his ear in a rather adorable manner as he casually leans against the elevator gate. And of course, his laugh is so fucking sexy, she has to add it to her list. 

His gaze flickers to the lit-up button and back to her eyes as he lifts a curious brow. “What unit are you heading to?”

“What are you, a stalker?” she accuses as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Just curious is all,” he answers, raising his hands defensively. "You’re going to the same floor I came from. If I were a stalker, I wouldn't be a very good one, considering I asked you where you lived instead of sneaking around and following you, now would I?" 

Emma opens her mouth to respond, but before she gets the chance, her phone is dinging in her hand as another incoming text from Mary Margaret appears, reminding her she never finished replying to the previous message.

**MM: You must still be driving so don't respond. See you soon!**

Emma laughs and shakes her head, holding up her phone screen to the handsome stranger. “This is why I was texting while walking. I swear my friend has a mini heart attack whenever I don't respond right away. Even though her apartment is where I'm heading,” she adds, vaguely answering his question.

He glances at the screen briefly before meeting her gaze again, and she turns the phone around and lowers it in front of her again. 

“Ah, I see. Guess you should go then. Wouldn't want her to have a heart attack on my account.” 

She glances at the elevator entrance he's still leaning against. "Might be easier if you stepped back so the doors can close.”

“Right. My apologies, love,” he says with a bashful smile, his cheeks painted with a slight blush. “As you wish.” With that, he steps back into the lobby, letting the doors slide shut. 

Her eyes are locked with his until the doors are completely closed, and even then, she’s still staring at the doors as though trying to burn a hole in them with her laser stare. She immediately feels a pang of regret from no longer being able to drown in those ocean blue eyes.

Emma blinks a few times to pull herself back to reality. The one where she’s very single and very much not looking for a man. Men are trouble, and that’s all they’re good for.

The elevator reaches the eleventh floor and Emma steps off, heading to Mary Margaret’s apartment before she receives another text from her friend.

She uses her key to enter the apartment and finds Mary Margaret sitting across from her boyfriend, both of them drinking what Emma only assumes is hot cocoa with whip cream and cinnamon. See, that’s what normal couples are supposed to do. Not _sitting on the same side of the table._ Mary Margaret and David may not be married, but they sure act like they are.

“Hi, Emma,” David greets her warmly, causing Mary Margaret to spin her head around.

“Oh good, you’re here!” The brunette springs up from her seat and goes around the table. She takes her boyfriend’s hand and tugs him toward the living room, practically bouncing up and down as she directs Emma to the sofa, looking like she’s about to combust at any moment. “Have a seat, Emma, there’s something we have to tell you.”

Emma narrows her eyes warily as she makes her way to the couch.

“Sit, sit, sit!” Mary Margaret chants in excitement as she and David stand in the center of the living room, waiting for Emma to have a seat.

Emma lifts a brow and quickly sits down. “What’s going on? Did the Evil Queen and Wicked Witch finally move out?”

Mary Margaret’s exuberant smile dims, but only slightly. “I wish.” 

Regina and her sister, Zelena, live in the unit directly below them, and every time they hear so much as a footstep above them, Zelena has a broom in her hand, banging on the ceiling with the end of the stick, and Regina is always calling the cops when she hears music; and not even loud music at that, but the walls are paper-thin. Any day they don’t pay Mary Margaret or David a visit about the noise is a very rare and very good day. Hence the monikers, Evil Queen and Wicked Witch.

“No, actually, it’s even better than that,” Mary Margaret beams as she and David exchange adoring looks before reverting their eyes to Emma.

“Okay, what is it?” she laughs. Her friends' excitement is contagious.

Mary Margaret holds up her left hand and wiggles her fingers. “We’re engaged!”

Emma’s mouth falls open in excitement as she sees the gold band holding an emerald green stone. She's not shocked though, only surprised that it didn't happen sooner. She knew they would tie the knot one day, she just wondered how long they’d be able to wait.

Emma jumps up from her seat and takes Mary Margaret's hand, studying the engagement ring. "It's so beautiful." She draws each of them into a big hug. “Oh my God, I’m so happy for both of you!”

Mary Margaret lets out the huge sigh she had apparently been holding. “Phew, it feels so good to get that off my chest. I thought I was going to explode.”

“I know,” David and Emma say simultaneously. 

“Jinx, poke you owe me a coke!” they both say.

“Ha, I said it first,” Emma teases, pointing at him.

“Only by a millisecond.”

“Alright, you two,” Mary Margaret laughs. “Now that we got that out of the way, I wanted to ask you if you would be my maid of honor, Emma.”

“Of course I will!” Emma replies enthusiastically and hugs Mary Margaret again. 

“Oh, I’m so glad! And you know you have to bring a date to the wedding, right?” Mary Margaret adds as they break the hug.

Emma frowns. “Do I have to?”

“Emma, come on, it wouldn’t kill you to go out and meet a guy for once.”

“I do go out. In fact, I have a date tonight.”

Mary Margaret scolds her. “Okay, one, you were hired to date him and two, our engagement dinner is tonight at 7:30 at the Radisson Plaza.”

“Oh, well I can reschedule the date for tomorrow then,” Emma assures them. 

Mary Margaret sighs and shakes her head. “Emma, when are you going to stop trying to save relationships and start finding one for yourself, huh? You deserve to be happy, too.” 

“I am happy.”

David crosses his arms over his chest and Mary Margaret places her hands on her hips. 

“Are you really?” he asks.

“What are you, my parents?” Emma rolls her eyes and heads for the kitchen, her friends following behind her.

“We’re just worried about you, that’s all.”

Emma grabs a box of Cheez-Its and turns around, digging into the box to scoop up a handful. 

“Emma, don’t eat too many, you’ll spoil your appetite,” David chides in a fatherly tone. 

“Okay Dad,” she teases and looks at Mary Margaret, continuing their conversation. “I’m happy with the way things are, okay? Some people need true love to make them happy; I only need my two best friends, a roof over my head and a job that pays the bills. And I have a very fulfilling job at that. I get to be Superwoman and swoop in and save the day,” she says before shoveling the Cheez-Its in her mouth.

“Okay, but who’s going to save you?” Mary Margaret asks with a raised brow. “Even Superwoman needs saving from time to time. Besides, I’d hardly call getting paid to go on dates with unavailable men fulfilling. Why can’t you do something you actually enjoy, like flipping houses?” 

“Okay, first of all, only _I_ save me,” she mumbles through a mouthful of food, pointing a clean finger at her chest. “And secondly, I need money to flip houses. To make money, I need to be Miss Fix-It. To be Miss Fix-It, I can’t have a boyfriend. I mean, can you imagine me going on an actual date and the guy asking me what I do for a living? I can’t exactly tell the truth and say, _I fix relationships, so if you see me on a date with another guy, don’t worry,”_ Emma says cheekily with a flick of her hand, _“his girlfriend is paying me to go out with him. You cool with that?”_

“No, you definitely can’t say that,” Mary Margaret shakes her head. “Which is all the more reason why you need to stop this, Emma,” she pleads, resting a gentle hand on Emma’s arm. “You know we support you and what you’re doing, but most importantly, we support your well-being.”

“I know, I know,” Emma sighs in exasperation, closing the box and pulling away from Mary Margaret to return it to the pantry. She sucks the powdered cheese remnants from her fingers before washing her hands. She’s heard her friend's spiel many times before. “Even if I did start dating, what makes you think I’m going to find my Prince Charming like you did?”

David grins and wraps his arm around Mary Margaret, kissing her temple. “She sure did.”

Mary Margaret blushes and smiles, turning her head to kiss his lips before looking at Emma again. “Look, if I can find love—hell if _Ruby_ can find love—then so can you.”

Emma cocks a brow at her friend as she dries her hands with a hand towel from the rack. “Ruby has a boyfriend?” 

“Yes, she does. They’ve been dating for four months now.”

Emma doesn't know much about the woman who lives down the hall, only that she tends to be a maneater, so Emma’s kind of surprised to hear she’s in a stable relationship. “Must be one hell of a guy.”

“Yes, from what I hear, he is,” Mary Margaret nods matter of factly.

“Believe me, I’ve heard too much,” David groans.

“You would get along famously with him, Emma,” Mary Margaret adds, ignoring her fiance’s comment. “He’s an architect. You won’t get to meet him tonight though, he had to work.” 

Emma shrugs, unimpressed. “So, he’s an architect, big deal.” 

Mary Margaret gently scolds her. “The point is, she’s happy. You can be, too.”

Emma turns from the sink, folding her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and how long would that happiness last for me? For five seconds—long enough to get my heart shattered into a million pieces? No thanks.” She turns to leave the kitchen.

“Emma, not all men are like Neal,” David says, stopping Emma in her tracks. She spins around to face them again. 

“And not all relationships end with a broken heart,” Mary Margaret adds.

“Yes, they do,” Emma claims adamantly. “Even when someone is lucky enough to find their true love and live happily ever after, one of them will die first, eventually. People either leave a lonely life when they die or they leave their loved ones with a broken heart. Sound like happiness to you?”

“Emma…” David tries to get her to listen with a pained expression on his face, but Emma cuts him off.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, glancing between them. “Today’s supposed to be a happy one. You just got engaged and I don’t want to spoil it or drag you two down with my miserable theories on love, okay? So can we just drop it?”

Mary Margaret offers a small smile and a nod. “Okay, sorry, Emma. We didn’t mean to make you upset. We just love you and we care about you, you know that right?”

“Of course I do,” Emma says with a frail smile. “I love you both, too.”

“Well, how about we all get ready for tonight. Are you sure you don’t mind changing your plans?” David asks.

Emma scoffs and waves off his question with a flick of her hand. “Please, how often do my two best friends in the world get engaged?”

“Well, hopefully once,” David chuckles.

Emma points a warning finger at them. “It better be only once because I can’t play Miss Fix-It for you, MM, since David here already knows me and my operation.”

Mary Margaret laughs and wraps her arms around the back of David’s neck. “You won't have to worry about that, Emma, trust me.” 

David grins and wraps his arms around her, kissing her on the lips. 

Emma sticks a finger in her mouth, making a gagging motion as she grabs her purse from the table with her other hand. “Okay, that’s my cue to leave,” she laughs. “I’ll be back at seven.” She doesn’t give them a chance to answer before she’s out the door.

~*~

“This movie is so great, you're going to love it,” Emma says enthusiastically as she walks with her date, holding a bowl of popcorn. “Thank you for paying for my ticket and the snacks.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m not against women paying, just to clarify, I just think it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, you know?”

“You’re definitely a gentleman, Greg, and I love that in a man,” she says, making him blush. “Can you hold this for a sec?” She shoves the bowl into his chest before he can answer.

“Sure,” he says with a chuckle, even though he’s already holding it.

Emma opens the box of Milk Duds and pours them over the popcorn. “You don’t mind, do you? I love to let the Milk Duds melt over the popcorn, it’s so good.”

“No, it’s fine. I told you, I like a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to voice it.”

Emma retrieves the bowl and starts munching on the popcorn before the chocolate gets a chance to melt. “Mmmm, I love how buttery this place makes their popcorn. It’s so good, don’t you agree?”

“I haven’t tried their—”

Before he gets a chance to finish, Emma shoves a few popcorn kernels in his mouth. “It’s good, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Greg answers with a nod as he covers his mouth and starts chewing.

“Thank you again for agreeing to reschedule the date,” she says as they make their way toward the theater their movie is playing in. “As I said, I couldn’t miss the engagement dinner, they’re my best friends.”

“I told you it’s no problem,” he says, waving off her words. “I wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

“Oh, I would never miss their engagement dinner, they're just so important to me. I’ve had friends before, but no one as loyal as them, and certainly no one willing to stick around as long as MM. She and I have been best friends since Kindergarten, and I have no idea what I would do without her. We do everything together. MM and I even lived together for five years,” Emma rambles on and on, even when they enter the theater. She looks over and has to fight off a smirk when she sees how slightly irritated her date is. She’s been talking his ear off since they met outside the theater. “Where would you like to sit? I really like the front row because I like being right in front of the action, but I also like sitting in the back because there’s more privacy,” she snorts and elbows him in the stomach, “if you know what I mean,” she winks at him.

“The middle’s fine,” he groans, rubbing his stomach like she had injured him, and they make their way to the middle, finding two available seats. 

Her eyes widen in concern. “Oh, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Sometimes I forget how strong I am for my size. I work out at the gym—”

“I’m fine,” he says curtly, holding up his hand to silence her. “Let’s just sit, shall we?”

“Okay,” Emma says in mock defense and drops into her chair. “Oh, this just won’t do. We’re right under the vent and I’m afraid I’ll get too chilly. Can we move to the back?”

“Fine,” he grumbles through gritted teeth, and they get up and move to the last row. 

Emma chews on her popcorn rather loudly and comments throughout the previews, saying things like, “Ooooh, that looks like a good one,” or “that looks so awful, I’ll be missing that one,” or she’ll joke and make fun of it and laugh hysterically, even when no one else is laughing. 

She thought this particular job would be difficult for her, considering she’s no Chatty Cathy, but it feels rather freeing saying everything that comes to mind. Every time a thought enters her brain that might annoy him, she speaks it out loud.

When the movie begins, Greg leans in, whispering, “Okay, now it’s time to be quiet.”

Emma frowns at him, continuing to obnoxiously chew her popcorn as she faces the screen and slumps back in her chair. 

She waits approximately five minutes, after the opening credits are over, until she starts talking again. “This movie is so scary,” she whispers loudly, her eyes fixed on the screen. “You’re gonna be on the edge of your seat the whole time.”

“Okay, let’s watch the movie,” he whispers back.

“Okay.” 

She watches the film intently, even though she’s extremely bored. She just watched this movie two days ago, so she knows the surprises, she’s already experienced the spine chilling moments and most importantly, she knows who the mystery killer is. “Oh my God, that guy’s an asshole!” she shouts, throwing a couple of popcorn kernels toward the screen; they land in the hair of some lady, who’s completely unaware.

As Emma chokes back a laugh, she sees out the corner of her eye Greg cowering in his seat, burying his face in his hands. Whether he’s trying to hide his embarrassment or hiding his face so no one recognizes him, she’s not sure. She smirks briefly and grabs his wrist, pulling his hand away. “You’ve gotta see this part, it’s getting good.”

He lowers his other hand, sighing in exasperation, and she can tell he’s doing his best to maintain his composure.

The dressing room scene she told him about is close and she points at the murderer, unbeknownst to any first-time viewers when an onscreen actress invites him into her room. “Don’t trust him! He’s the killer!”

“Shhhhhh!” someone shushes her from a few seats ahead.

“You shush,” Emma mumbles and sits back with a scowl on her face.

The theater is silent again, other than the soft conversation from the movie, when the most suspenseful part is about to begin. Knowing this before any excitement happens during the scene, Emma springs to the edge of her seat and screams, “Ruuuuuun! He’s gonna slash your throat! Oh my God, run, Kelly, run!!!!”

~*~

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out of the theater!” Greg shouts when they reach her car.

He looks extremely pissed. For good reason. 

Her eyes fill up with tears and her bottom lip quivers like she’s about to cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She turns around and starts sobbing in her hands. Or at least, she makes it look that way. In reality, she’s squirting her cheeks with water from an eyedropper to make it look like she’s crying.

He sighs and puts a gentle hand on her back. “Please, don’t cry. I just—I can’t…” he begins, fumbling for words.

After discreetly slipping the dropper back in her clutch purse, she wipes at her fake tears with her hand and turns around, glaring at him. “You can't what?”

He stares at her for a few seconds, apology flickering in his eyes. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You seem really great, but—”

“But what?” she demands, her sadness quickly replaced by anger.

“But you talk too damn much,” he answers bluntly.

Emma slaps him in the face. “You’re an asshole!” She spins on her heels and gets in her car. 

“Wait, I’m sorry!” he shouts after her, but she slams the door in his face and starts the engine. He throws up his arms in defeat and walks away, giving Emma the opportunity to retrieve her phone from her purse and type out a text. 

**Emma: Go.**

She peels away from the curb and heads down Maple Street, making a right-hand turn. She proceeds around the block and stops just before she reaches Maple Street again and pulls to the curb before parking and pulling out her binoculars. She watches as Tamara crosses the street several feet ahead. She watches as Greg’s face lights up when he sees his ex-girlfriend. They have a reunion hug and chat for a few minutes. He appears to be completely relieved and makes hand gestures and faces as he talks, like he’s telling her about his awful date as she listens intently, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. They end up walking down the street, his arm around her as she rests her head on his shoulder. 

Emma smiles in success as she lowers the binoculars, but her smile slowly fades. It’s so satisfying when she brings a couple back together, but honestly, it hurts like hell in the end. Watching the happy couple walk off into the sunset is a stark reminder of what she doesn’t have and probably never will. It’s a reminder of the large, gaping void in her heart. 

Maybe Mary Margaret and David were right. If they can be happy, then why can’t she? Why does she always have to play Miss Fix-It? Why can’t she, for once in her life, have her own love story instead of fixing the ones other people had initially failed at? Emma sighs and trails away from the curb. 

_Maybe someday._

For now, she wonders if she’ll ever see the hot, British guy again. She curses herself for not getting his name. If she knew his name, then she could ask Mary Margaret and David if either of them know him, or whether he lives there or was just visiting one of the tenants at the time.

She hasn’t had sex in far too long, so maybe that’s why she’s feeling lonely. She’s not looking for love, just a good, satisfying fuck with a warm-blooded male. More specifically, with the hot British guy she ran into. 

But who knows, maybe she’ll run into him again.

~*~

**Two Months Later….**

She still hasn’t seen the hot British guy since that day she bumped into him. Which is a shame because she’s so sexually frustrated, especially since she’s been fantasizing about him this whole time. She could easily invite some other guy to her bed, but she has a feeling the hot British guy is the only one capable of scratching her itch. He’s the _only_ thing she’s craved for two damn months. Yes, hot, steamy sex, with the that man, her legs thrown around his hips, ginger scruff dragging along her neck as he drives into her is exactly what she needs right now. Emma bites her bottom lip and has to clench her thighs together just thinking about it as the elevator ascends to the eleventh floor. She hears the ding when it stops, and the doors slide open. 

She goes to Mary Margaret’s apartment, wondering what to expect. All she said in the text was, 

**MM: Can you come over? It’s an emergency.**

At first, Emma had panicked and replied back, expressing her concerns, but Mary Margaret assured her she and David were fine and that it wasn’t a life or death situation. She still wouldn’t divulge any information other than that.

When Emma uses her key to unlock the door, she finds Ruby crying on the sofa with Mary Margaret’s arms around her, trying to console her.

“What happened?” Emma asks in concern as she sets her bag on the end table by the door.

“Ruby was dumped,” Mary Margaret answers as she strokes Ruby’s hair. 

The sobs only grow in volume and intensity, and she’s visibly shaking as her friend tries to calm her. 

“It’s okay, Rubes, everything will be okay,” Mary Margaret coos. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Emma offers her condolences as she approaches the couch.

Mary Margaret tilts her head toward the other side of the sofa. “Emma, please have a seat.”

“Okay,” she says skittishly and takes a seat next to Ruby. She’s not sure why Mary Margaret invited her here at this time, considering she doesn’t know Ruby very well. She’s really only spoken to her a few times since she moved into the apartment building last year. “So, um… if you don’t mind me asking… why did he break up with you?” she asks Ruby.

Ruby lifts her head from Mary Margaret's shoulder and wipes away her tears with a Kleenex. She blows her nose before shifting in her seat to turn toward Emma, her eyes red and swollen with mascara running down her cheeks. “Because I’m an idiot.” She bursts into a fit of tears again and buries her face in her hands. Emma places her palm on the woman’s back, moving her hand in soothing circles as she glances up at Mary Margaret, who’s torn expression sends an uneasy feeling to Emma’s gut. Something tells her she shouldn't have asked. “It’s okay, you can tell me…”

Ruby sniffles and dabs her cheeks with the tissue. “Well, um… I did something really dumb, Emma. I mean, this guy was so fucking perfect and I royally screwed things up with him.” Ruby shakes her head, resting her hands in her lap as she stares at the tissues she’s holding.

Emma’s not sure what she’s expecting. Maybe Ruby got too jealous or clingy or maybe she lied about something huge. Considering her history, Ruby doesn’t seem like the type of woman who would try to rush the guy into marriage or having kids, so it probably wasn't that. In fact, maybe that’s why the guy dumped her. Maybe he proposed, she said no and he didn’t want to be with someone who wasn’t ready to settle down with him.

“Come on, whatever you did couldn’t have been that bad,” Emma coaxes softly, but she has a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh it is, trust me. And now his roommate says he’s moving back to England once his lease is up.”

 _Wow, he’s fleeing the country to get away from her?_ Okay, maybe it’s worse than Emma thought.

Ruby sucks in a sharp breath and tells Emma the one thing that could possibly make her stomach churn, the memories of her own failed relationship hitting her like a tidal wave. “He caught me in bed with someone else.” 

_Oh._ Okay, Emma was wrong; it’s _way_ worse than she thought. The expression on her face must be saying way too much because after Ruby catches the look on her face, she bursts into tears again. Emma politely extends her arms to Ruby, even though it’s very difficult for her to feel sorry for this woman, considering she was once cheated on, herself. Her blood burns as she thinks of her cheating bastard of an ex-husband. She sure as hell would never take him back. Not in a million years. 

She’s towed from her unpleasant thoughts when Ruby starts wailing so loudly, she’s sure the Wicked Witch and Evil Queen can hear her.

“Oh God, what have I done?! I cheated on Killian!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the responses so far! I seemed to have shocked a lot of people by making Ruby Killian's ex-girlfriend instead of Milah. You will see some of my reasons in this chapter and in later ones. You also may have some concerns after reading this chapter, so please bear with me, there is a method to my madness.
> 
> For those of you who have been patiently waiting for a Set My Soul on Fire update, I promise I'm working on that one next. Thanks for your patience!

Emma has a sinking feeling in her chest as she glances between the top of Ruby’s head and Mary Margaret, narrowing her eyes at them. “Wait, you're not asking me to…” Her words trail off, face draining of color when the guilt-ridden look Mary Margaret gives her is all the confirmation she needs. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why they summoned her. Ruby doesn’t need another shoulder to cry on, or another pair of ears to listen as she spouts off her tale of woe and blabbers on about how badly she screwed up and wants her boyfriend back. No, what she needs is a freaking miracle. She needs Miss Fix-It. But Emma refuses to help her. She’s been on the other side, and she knows there’s no coming back from this, especially if this guy, Killian, is as perfect as Ruby says he is. If that’s the case, it won’t take him long to find someone he’s better suited for.

Ruby lifts her head, wiping her tears with the tissue. The hopeful glint in her eyes further confirms Emma’s speculation. “MM here says you’re good at getting couples back together, so I was wondering if you could help me get my Killy Bear back.”

 _Killy Bear?_ Really? Emma refrains from rolling her eyes as she stands from the couch, shaking her head, and waving her hands in refusal. “Absolutely not.”

Hope and optimism are immediately extinguished from Ruby’s eyes. “But why not? This is what you do, isn’t it? You save relationships.”

“Yes, I save relationships… but only if they’re worth saving.” Emma immediately regrets her statement as soon as it leaves her lips. She hadn’t meant to say it so harshly.

Anger replaces Ruby’s sadness as she rises from the sofa, scowling at Emma. “Our relationship _is_ worth saving.”

Emma narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Let me ask you something… and please don’t take this the wrong way; I’m just trying to figure how things went wrong, okay?”

Ruby nods and crosses her arms, her features softening as she waits for Emma to continue.

“If Killian is such a great guy, then why did you feel the need to…” she pauses, fumbling for the right words to avoid offending her. 

“Why did I feel the need to cheat?”

Emma shrugs. “Well… yeah.”

Ruby’s shoulders slump and she turns around, pacing the length of the room as Mary Margaret eyes her in concern. 

“I was drunk, okay? I wasn’t thinking clearly. Killy was working, and I was hanging out at his place with his roommate, Victor. We ended up drinking a little too much and kissed. Pretty soon things got out of hand and we ended up in Vic’s bed. I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did.” 

Emma’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open. “Wait a minute, you cheated on him with his roommate?!” Oh no, this will be impossible to repair. 

“Well, technically they’re not roommates anymore. Killian kicked him out.” Ruby’s bottom lip quivers, and she cries again. “If I could take it back, I would.”

She sighs deeply in her hands to avoid the stares Mary Margaret and Ruby are giving her. This woman is obviously trying to put her on a guilt trip, but Emma refuses to be pressured into this. She lowers her hands and joins them together as she steps closer to Ruby, looking her dead in the eye. “Look, even if I did this, even if I made Killian run back into your arms again, how do I know you won’t make the same mistake?” If there’s one thing Emma doesn’t do, it’s waste her time.

Ruby shakes her head furiously. “I promise, I won’t. The truth is, I’m in love with Killian, and I was too afraid to tell him.”

Emma arches a brow. She doesn't understand why Ruby thought sleeping with someone else would fix anything. “So, instead you slept with his roommate?”

Ruby looks like she’s going to fall apart again. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I didn’t realize what a huge mistake I made until I lost the best thing that ever happened to me.” She lunges toward Emma and grabs her hands. “All I want is a second chance, Emma. Isn’t that what Miss Fix-It is all about—giving couples second chances?”

“Well, yes, but I only help couples when the client possesses true love. If that’s not the case, then the relationship isn’t worth saving.”

“But it is, Emma, I promise, it is. Just ask MM.” She turns her head, seeking support from Mary Margaret, who rises from the couch and approaches them. “You saw how happy I was, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did, Ruby, but Emma’s right. If Killian gives you a second chance, you can’t squander it.”

“I won’t.” Ruby reverts her eyes to Emma. “I’ll even pay double your usual rate.”

Emma sighs at the offer. Now if she says no, she’ll look like an ass. Because what decent human being would refuse to help someone save their relationship for money, especially if they're being paid double? “Mary Margaret, can I speak to you for a moment?” she asks her, pulling her hands from Ruby's grip.

“Yes, of course.”

They step into her's and David’s room with the door closed. “Why would you tell Ruby I could do this for her? Weren’t you the one who said I should do something else? And besides, you know this particular case hits too close to home for me.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes pool with guilt. “I did tell you that, and I know this request may not be an easy one for you considering your history with Neal, so if you don’t want to do it, I would understand.”

Ah, yes, reverse psychology. So that’s the card she wants to play? Emma narrows her eyes at Mary Margaret as she crosses her arms, giving her friend a telling look, letting her know she’s onto her little strategy. “So, it’s okay if I’m Miss Fix-It, as long as I’m helping your friend?”

Mary Margaret sighs and places her hands gently on Emma’s upper arms. “Look, you don’t know Ruby like I do. She’s a good person, Emma. Just because she did a terrible thing, doesn’t mean she’s a terrible person. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a second chance.”

“But how would you feel if David cheated on you? Would you want to give him a second chance?”

Mary Margaret doesn’t even flinch. “David would never cheat on me.”

“I know he wouldn’t, but that’s not the point.” She sighs when Mary Margaret wrinkles her brows in confusion. “Okay, bad example. What if Neal wanted a second chance with me? Would you want me to take him back?”

Mary Margaret frowns. “Of course not, but that’s different. Neal’s an asshole. I was against your relationship with him from the beginning, in case you forgot.”

“Yeah, I remember very clearly,” Emma answers sullenly. Mary Margaret was so upset when she found out her best friend had not only gone to Las Vegas to get married without inviting her, but that she married the man she’d been warning Emma about since day one. Their friendship was almost destroyed because of it. Emma didn’t want to hear about all the reasons Neal was wrong for her, so she stopped talking to her best friend. Then she found out Neal had cheated the night before their wedding day, and she came running to Mary Margaret on her knees, begging for forgiveness. 

“Ruby’s not like Neal. She’s actually remorseful. She loves Killian, she just lost her way, Emma. There’s a difference between Neal and other people who’ve messed up. They realized they messed up and try to be better, but Neal? He’ll continue causing destruction in his path.” 

Mary Margaret’s not wrong there. 

“But it still doesn’t make Ruby’s actions okay. She should've known better.” 

“Look, Emma, if I didn’t have faith in Ruby, I never would’ve recommended you to her. But I _do_ have faith in her, and I know she can turn this around if Killian gives her another chance. But he won’t even return her calls or texts, and he’s never home when she goes to his place. So she needs your help. Please, Emma.”

She takes a moment to mull it over. If Ruby were any other person, if Emma didn’t trust Mary Margaret completely, then she would never consider doing this. And her friend is right. It will take a lot more than a phone call, or a visit, or an apology to win Killian back. It will take time and some intervention. 

Emma gives a slight nod and a tight-lipped smile. “You’re lucky I trust your judgment, or rather, Ruby’s lucky I trust your judgment.”

Mary Margaret’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Emma takes a deep, heavy breath in defeat. “Yes, I’ll do it.” She points a finger at her friend. “But I’m doing it for you.”

Mary Margaret claps her hands and bounces up and down before pulling Emma into a hug. “Thank you, Emma, you’re the best!”

Emma instantly regrets her decision; she doesn’t have a good feeling about this whole situation. Normally, her clients are women with good, honest intentions who just need a little light to guide them, but a cheater? Ruby’s gonna need a whole lot more than a flashlight. She’s gonna need the freaking sun. 

When she and Mary Margaret return to the living room, Ruby is sitting on the edge of her seat with her elbows resting on her knees and her hands folded together like she’s praying. When she hears the two women enter the room, she springs up from her seat, her hands still linked together under her chin as she awaits the verdict.

Emma sucks in a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

Ruby’s eyes light up and she grins from ear to ear and throws her arms around Emma. “Thank, you, thank you, thank you!!!!” she chants excitedly.

Emma breaks the hug and pulls away before the woman ends up kneeling before her and kissing her feet. “Before I do this, you need to know how this works.” She strides over to the door and grabs her purse, looking back at Ruby. “Meet me at my office tomorrow afternoon with a list of things I should know about Killian, and we’ll discuss the details.” She glances at Mary Margaret and asks, “You'll give her the address?”

She nods. “Of course.”

“What kind of things?” Ruby inquires before Emma gets a chance to head out the door.

“You know, like his interests, hobbies, his likes, his dislikes and pet peeves. What’s his favorite place to eat, his favorite movies, things like that?”

“Okay, I’ll be there at noon.” 

Emma leaves the apartment, shutting the door and leaning against it, expelling a heavy sigh. What the hell did she sign up for?

~*~

Later that night, as Emma brushes her teeth, clad in her pajamas, she’s trying to come up with a plan. She needs something concrete, something that will top Ruby’s betrayal. Her usual tactics involve doing the exact opposite of what her clients had done that presumably caused the breakup. And Emma always goes to extreme measures to make the men realize that what they had wasn’t so bad after all. Her goal is to make them appreciate their girlfriend’s qualities, and their flaws. But Emma has a feeling that showing Killian she’s overly honest and monogamous will not do the trick. Monogamy is an appealing trait for someone who wants a monogamous relationship, and obviously Killian does. And she’s not trying to make him fall in love with her, she’s trying to make him realize that Ruby’s admirable qualities supersede her flaws. There are worse things Ruby could’ve done, Emma supposes. So she focuses on those scenarios. Ruby could’ve had an ongoing affair behind Killian’s back, or she could’ve been secretly married. Or she could’ve contracted some STI and gave it to Killian, like Neal did to Emma. _The asshole._

Emma spits out the toothpaste and rinses her mouth, watching as the water and light blue foam swirl into the drain, anger seeping over her. Ha, maybe she could take a page from Neal’s book to help her with this situation. She could get inside Neal’s head, think how he does, or at least how he did when he decided to sleep with that hooker.

She sets down the toothbrush, heads to her bedroom and goes to her closet. Taking a deep breath, she slides open the bypass doors, trying not to let thoughts of Neal make her sad or miserable. It was ten years ago and shouldn’t still affect her, but sometimes those feelings seem to creep up on her unexpectedly and rattle her soul. 

Emma gets on her tiptoes and reaches for a shoebox on the shelf toward the back. She pulls it down and brings it to the bed, removing the lid. If she ever needs a reminder of what Neal did to her, a reminder to never trust anyone ever again, all she has to do is look in this box. She hasn't been able to open it in years though because it always makes her furious and start sobbing. She holds up the dreamcatcher they found in a motel room a family had left behind right before Neal proposed to her. She wishes the dreamcatcher actually could replace her nightmares with good dreams. She wishes she could forget everything bad that ever happened to her, every memory that still haunts her. 

She tosses it on the bed and goes through some other items and picks them up, studying each item as they bring back bittersweet memories. There’s the album, _Up from Below_ by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, which included _their_ song, Home, a song she and Neal had listened to on repeat and sang along to while driving to Las Vegas. And there's the magnet they got in Las Vegas that reads _Home is Wherever I’m with You_ , and the dice Neal rolled at the casino the night before their wedding. He’d said she was his good luck charm, and they were planning on using the money he’d won to make a down payment on a house. _Their_ house. Instead, he’d squandered some of the cash on a prostitute after Emma headed back to their hotel suite and went to bed with a headache. And yet, her wedding gift from Neal was a key chain he stole from a gas station. Tears prick her eyes as she lets the dice fall from her hands and picks up the keychain, fingering the swan pendant.

Reverting her eyes to the items in the shoebox, she spots the framed wedding picture and sets down the keychain to pick it up. She was wearing a simple white dress and a crown of yellow buttercup roses, and he was wearing a blue suit jacket with jeans. They were both smiling so big, they were showing teeth. She had been so sure he was the one when she married him. Little did she know how completely wrong and stupid she was. Little did she know of the betrayal and deceit hidden behind his smile. She didn’t know until it was too late. Until her dreams were shattered, until her marriage had ended with an annulment and a case of the Clap. 

Emma’s blood boils under her skin as her fingers tighten around the frame, her body vibrating with anger. She doesn’t even know why she still has this fucking photograph. Hot tears stream down her cheeks as all the rage and emotions she’s buried for so long erupt to the surface. “Fucking asshole!” She lifts the frame and retracts her arm, flinging it across the room. 

The frame hits the wall with a clatter and lands on the carpet. Emma walks over and picks it up, the pad of her finger tracing the crack in the glass as she studies it through bleary eyes. She tightens her jaw and breathes heavily through her nose, trying to stave off the urge to break down and cry on her bedroom floor. She often wonders how her life would’ve gone differently if Neal hadn’t turned out to be a fucking scumbag, if he had actually been the man she thought he was. Maybe they’d be living in a big house with children running around the backyard like they had once talked about, and maybe they’d be happy. But instead, she’s living alone with a hole in her heart, still mourning over the betrayal of a man she hates with every fiber of her being. 

_Happily ever after, my ass._

Emma marches to her hallway closet, opens her toolbox and pulls out a hammer, gripping the handle firmly in her hand. She sets the photo on her dresser and wonders how good it would feel to smash the damn photo, how amazing it would feel to watch the glass shatter like her heart had shattered ten years ago. Judging by that photo alone, they look happy, with their sickly sweet smiles and googly eyes. They appear to be your typical newlyweds looking forward to the journey ahead. You wouldn't be able to tell that the groom was about to destroy the bride's life and rip her heart to pieces. 

As Emma lifts the hammer above her head, prepared to obliterate the photo and all of her memories of Neal, a thought strikes her like a lightning bolt, and she lowers the hammer, staring at the photo with wide eyes. The photo of how happy they looked—how happy they could’ve been. 

What if the answer she’s been searching for is staring her in the face? 

She wipes the tears from her cheeks and sets down the hammer to pick up the photograph. She’s thought of something that will not only top Ruby’s betrayal but make Killian hate Emma with every fiber of his being, like how she feels about Neal. And no, she’s not thinking about giving him the Clap. No, what she’s thinking is much worse. In fact, she should kick herself for even thinking about doing this. And not just because it’s evil, but because she has to swallow her pride and do something she would never in a million years think she’d be doing ever again. 

It takes some effort and time, but after some Facebook stalking and Instagram lurking and after private messaging some former friends, she’s able to extract a phone number. 

She changes her mind four times, she reconsiders her plan about nine times and almost chickens out about twelve times the next morning before Ruby is supposed to be here. She’s doing this for Mary Margaret, though—her best friend in the entire world. So she finally finds the courage and presses the phone icon. 

Emma sucks in a long, shaky breath, praying he doesn’t answer. If he doesn’t answer, then that would be that. She’ll have no choice but to think of another plan.

“Hello?”

 _Fuck._ He answered. Emma squeezes her eyes shut, immediately regretting this whole idea.

“Who is this?” he demands impatiently.

She opens her eyes and takes a soundless breath. “Um… hi,” she says, her voice shaking.

There’s silence... silence... silence…. and more silence before he finally responds.

“Ems?”

The nickname makes her stomach churn, and she cringes at the sound of his voice. “Listen, I’m just going to skip the fake pretenses and get right to the point.” She takes another breath and pushes down the hatred she feels, she pushes down the anger and loathing and pure disgust, and everything else the thought of him conjures up, and she’s able to say the one thing she never thought she’d ever say to him after what happened ten years ago. And she says it in a firm, rigid tone. “I need a favor. You owe me that at least.”

~*~

Half an hour later, Ruby arrives promptly at Emma’s house.

“Thank you for the list, it’s very helpful,” Emma remarks after skimming through it, her nose twisting as she recalls the unnecessary details, “although I didn't really need to know he’s a God in bed or that he likes when you nibble his ear when he’s fucking you, or when you massage his balls,” Emma groans.

Ruby shrugs and smirks shamelessly. "Sorry, I got a little carried away talking about my Killy Bear. Besides, you said you needed to know _everything."_

“Yeah, everything that would help me gather information about him and the relationship,” Emma clarifies, “not his penis size or sex fetishes.” Seven and a half inches is a good size, though, she has to admit. But if he’s as good in bed as Ruby says he is, then why would she need another dick? She wonders how big the hot British guy’s dick is. 

She clears her throat, shaking the thought from her mind and sets the list aside, joining her hands together on her desk. She really needs to get laid. “So, here’s how it usually works—I go on a date with the ex-boyfriend and use what I know about him to act like the perfect woman for him, right before I make his night a living hell and make him so repelled by me, he runs screaming back to the ex-girlfriend.” 

Emma stands up and walks around the room, reciting the typical spiel. “Research shows that whatever reason a man has for dumping a woman begins with doubt. Whether they’re doubting the relationship is as exciting as it was in the beginning, that it’s better than being single, or that he can’t do better. But whatever his reason, chances are he’s already fantasizing about another woman who presents different possibilities, or he’s already with her. Sure, he’ll try to do the noble thing and blame himself, saying things like it’s not a good time in his life or he’s not ready for a relationship, but deep down they want the same thing—another woman—because he feels like something’s missing in the relationship.” She goes back to her chair and sits down, crossing her legs and joining her hands on the desk. “That’s where I come in. I show the man exactly what he’s missing.”

Ruby nods, indicating she’s following along so far, even though Emma’s usual spiel may not be all that relevant to her.

 _“But,_ this is a special case because, in order for you to get Killian back, he has to regain your trust. That may not happen in the month before he leaves for England. So, I’ll be his distraction. For four weeks, I’ll be the perfect girlfriend, and he’ll want to stay here in Storybrooke. But his world will turn upside down when I tell him that everything he knows about me is a lie. I’m talking lies of epic proportions that will make your betrayal seem like child’s play. He’ll come running back to you so fast, it’ll be like you never cheated.”

Ruby grins like a Cheshire Cat; she appears to be super confident that Emma can pull this off. Emma, however, is not so confident, but she can’t let her client know that.

“The terms and conditions are stated in this contract, and I’ll go over them with you to make sure we’re on the same page.” Emma extends the papers over the desk and places them in front of Ruby. 

“Okay,” she nods, scanning the first page.

Emma points to the first rule with the end of her ballpoint pen. “Okay, rule number one—I’m doing this to help you, not for my own personal agenda or to gain any pleasure from this. This is only a job to me, and in order for me to do my job, you can’t track us down or keep tabs on us. I don’t want you showing up when I’m on a date with Killian and going all _crazy ex-girlfriend_ on my ass, got it? You’re paying me to date him, so you have to trust me.” Emma lifts her eyes from the page and looks at her firmly. “If there’s no trust, there’s no deal.”

Ruby shakes her head. “I promise that won’t happen. I trust you.”

“Rule number two—this job has to remain strictly confidential. The only time you can mention Miss Fix-It is if you’re referring me to a potential client through word of mouth. I only get jobs through referrals. If my operation leaks to social media, then that could be the end of Miss Fix-It. If you break this rule, the fee is three times what you hired me to do, no exceptions. And the same goes for me; I never discuss a client’s business with anyone, whether it be future clients, family or friends.”

When Ruby nods in understanding, Emma continues.

“And rule number three—I don’t have sex with the ex-boyfriend under _any_ circumstance. That one‘s pretty self-explanatory, so I’ll move on to rule number four—if my efforts don’t result in you getting back together with Killian, or if I breach this contract in any way, I’ll give you a full refund. But once you’ve reconciled with him, it’s up to you to maintain the relationship. If he ends up breaking up with you after the reconciliation, there is no refund. Any questions so far?”

Ruby shakes her head and gives her an appreciative grin. “No, I’m just happy you’re doing this, Emma.”

Emma returns with a rueful smile and proceeds, going over more details and the matter of payment. Because this one will take more time than usual, she asks for half of the money upfront and the rest of it once Ruby and Killian have been reconciled. Ruby agrees with everything, no questions asked and pays her in cash. This woman really is desperate. Either that, or she’s just naïve.

“Okay, I just need you to sign here, here and here,” Emma says flipping through the pages and pointing to the x’s with her pen.

As Ruby signs the documents, Emma goes through the plan in her head, trying to think of anything she may have missed before Ruby leaves. She’s laid out everything in the contract, but she has an inkling she’s forgetting something. 

Ah yes, she has no clue what Killian looks like. And since he most likely won’t agree to being set up on a date so soon after what Ruby did to him, Emma has to make it seem like their meeting is coincidental and not planned.

After Ruby thanks her once again, she rises from her seat and makes her way to the door, Emma following behind her.

“Oh, and one more thing?”

“Sure, what is it?” Ruby asks, spinning around to face her again.

“Do you have a picture of him? I need to be able to recognize him in a public setting.”

“Sure.” Ruby pulls out her phone and unlocks the screen before extending the device to her.

Emma takes the phone, her eyes scanning the wallpaper photo. Her face immediately pales and her throat goes completely dry when she sees those familiar blue eyes. That dark disheveled hair. That smile—the one that will forever haunt her dreams. It may have been two months since she ran into him, but she’ll never forget those alluring eyes or that charming smile. She’d hoped she would see him again, she just hadn’t expected to see him on Ruby’s home screen with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. And they truly do look happy, like Mary Margaret had said.

“I know what you’re thinking—how could anyone cheat on _him,_ right?” Ruby mumbles glumly as she takes back the phone.

“Um, no, I wasn’t thinking that at all,” Emma claims, her voice cracked. Though one would certainly wonder how any woman in their right mind could cheat on this beautiful man, Emma’s not thinking about that. She’s thinking about how fucking devastating it is that Ruby’s ex-boyfriend is the same guy she ran into on the elevator. The same guy who’s been the star of her fantasies for two goddamn months. “I was just observing how happy you two look together.” 

“Uh-huh,” Ruby says sarcastically; she obviously doesn’t believe her. 

After she leaves, Emma buries her face in her hands, fighting off the urge to bang her head against the door. To think, she’d even considered knocking on every door on the eleventh floor to find him, and assuming he was single when she found him, she was going to fuck his brains out.

So much for that idea.


	4. Chapter 4

“Thanks for giving me this job at the last minute. I appreciate it.”

Robin flashes a warm smile. “No problem, lass. I needed the help and Dave told me you needed another job because you were behind on your bills. Besides, he owed me for hiring Regina.”

Emma hoists her head up, pausing from the cosmopolitan she’s making to turn around and raise her brows at her new boss. “Wait, back up. Regina works here, too?”

He nods, confusion clouding his features. “David didn’t tell you?”

“Um, no-oooo,” she fumes, not particularly happy about the thought of working with her. Had she known, she would’ve never accepted the job here. She would’ve figured out another way to run into Killian. One that didn’t involve having to put up with the Evil Queen.

“She got fired from her previous job. My guess is because she was too controlling, even toward her superiors, and no one else wanted to hire her.” 

Emma makes a pained gasp in fake astonishment. “Regina was too controlling? I’m shocked!” Emma remarks theatrically in a breathy tone. Finishing the cocktail, she adds a freshly sliced lime garnish and serves a woman at the bar her drink. 

Robin follows behind to continue their conversation. “Anyway, she was staying home all the time and constantly knocking on Mary Margaret’s and David’s door to complain about all the noise they were supposedly making.”

Emma grabs a fresh terry cloth hand towel and wipes down the counter after two patrons leave their seats. She looks up and scans the bar crowd, anxiously waiting for a particular patron to show up. Disappointment flares in her gut when she doesn’t spot him. She’s fine, though, really. “But she did that before.”

“Not as often, believe it or not. You should’ve seen David and Mary Margaret a few weeks ago. They. Were. Livid.” He chuckles. “Regina stormed over to their apartment, pounding on the door while they were engaged in...” He clears his throat and continues, “well, let’s just say they were making tacos.”

Emma snorts. She’s well aware of what _making tacos_ means for Mary Margaret and David. She’s accidentally interrupted them a few times while they were _making tacos._

“They were desperate and needed a break, so David begged me to hire her.”

“Wow, they must’ve been desperate. They come here for drinks all the time,” she points out.

“Which is why I schedule her day shifts on the weekends. She’s gone for most of the day, and when Dave and Mary Margaret want to come here, she’s already gone home. And they aren’t home to make a noise while she’s trying to sleep, and she’s not here to spit in their drinks. It’s really a win/win situation.”

“Not for me,” Emma groans. 

“At least your shifts will only overlap with hers for a few hours during the after-work rush on the days you’re both scheduled. She’ll be too busy to give you a hard time.”

“I highly doubt that. She’ll yell at me for getting in her way.”

“Probably,” Robin agrees. “You can’t let her get to you, though.”

“Ha! Easier said than done.”

He dons a slight smile. “I know, believe me. I have to work with her a lot more than you do.”

“Oh, lucky you. How’s that going? Do you want to fire her yet?” she asks hopefully. “Or use her head as a dartboard?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s actually not as bad as everyone makes her out to be. She and I get along for the most part. Sometimes she gets in one of her moods though, and I have to hide in my office to avoid her.”

Emma throws the towel over her shoulder and turns around, placing her hand on her hip. “Regina actually found someone who gets along with her, other than her sister? That has to qualify for a good samaritan award,” she smirks. “How do you do it, anyway?” she asks curiously, cocking her head to the side.

He shrugs. “Regina’s kind of like a Shelby Cobra. She’s high maintenance, temperamental, unpredictable, not easy to drive, often gives you a headache and requires a lot of attention. But at the end of the day, she just wants to be loved and cared for.”

Emma sighs and shakes her head. “Why do men like to compare women to cars?” She narrows her eyes at him. “Why are _you—my boss—_ comparing women to cars to _me—one of your employees?”_

“Oh, come on, it’s not like we’re strangers. How many times have I given you free drinks?”

“So what, that makes it okay?” She rolls her eyes. “No wonder your wife left you.”

Robin gasps dramatically, placing his hand on his heart, and the look he gives reminds her of a wounded animal. “You go straight for the jugular, don’t you? I guess I won’t have to worry about you not being able to handle yourself with the rowdy male patrons.”

“Damn right you don’t. If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s putting men in their place. It's one of my specialties.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckles. “No wonder you’re single,” he teases.

“Haha, you’re hilarious,” she says sarcastically. “For your information, I _choose_ to be single.”

“Uh-huh, that’s what all single people say.”

“Well, I guess it takes one to know one,” she retorts.

He responds with a caustic smirk.

Tossing the towel on the counter, she scans the bar once more before walking away while excusing herself to use the ladies’ room. Heading down the small corridor to the restroom, she pulls out her phone and sends a text. As much as she enjoys her banter with Robin, she needs to save the rest of her sassy energy for someone else. 

**Emma: What’s the ETA?**

Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she enters the restroom, using one of the available stalls. Her back pocket buzzes when she’s washing her hands at the sink. She dries them off and steps outside the restroom to take the call, speaking quietly into the phone.

 **“** Hey, what’s up?”

 **“** He’s on his way,” David replies.

“It’s about time. What took so long? You said he’d be here at seven-thirty.” She checks her Fitbit for the time. “It’s almost nine.”

“Sorry, there was a bit of a delay. He stopped by Ruby’s to return a box of her stuff before I got home,” David sighs. “They ended up getting into an argument, which is both a good thing and a bad one. He’s even more revved up and ready to drink, but be prepared for him to be in a pisspoor mood.”

“Don’t worry, I can handle him,” she assures. “Do you think he’ll be pissed at you for standing him up?”

“I’ll just tell him I had to help Mary Margaret with a wedding planning emergency.” She can detect his smile over the phone. “Works like a charm every time. And as you know, there’s always at least one.”

“Oh, I know,” Emma laughs. “I’m the maid of honor, remember? I’m lucky to get a day off.” 

He chuckles. “Just remember, a little over one month from now, it’ll all be over with.”

“Ugh, I can’t wait.” Her best friends are wasting no time getting married, and because Mary Margaret has been dreaming about marrying her Prince Charming since she was five years old, she already booked the venue two years ago, right after she met David. So they’re trying to scramble everything together in three months. Emma sees this as a blessing in disguise because it will get her out of having to bring a date. Since Ruby hired her to spend time with Killian and she's spending the rest of her time helping Mary Margaret pull everything together for the wedding, she won’t have time to find a date, or at least that’s the excuse she plans on giving Bridezilla.

“By the way, I have a bone to pick with you.”

He pauses. “You’re about to yell at me for not telling you about Regina, aren’t you?”

“Um, yeah. What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d turn down the bartending job. But Robin promised not to schedule you together, very often at least. Besides, if you’re only there to get Ruby back with Killian, then why does it matter?”

She groans in frustration. “Are you kidding? Have you _met_ her?!”

“I know, I know, but look at it this way, I’m pretty sure she likes Robin, so I think she’ll be in a much better mood at work,” he chuckles.

“So not funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“Sorry, Emma. You know I love you.”

“Love you too,” she mumbles bitterly under her breath.

“Well, I should let you go. Killian will be there any minute now.”

“Okay, talk to you later.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks,” she says before hanging up. Something tells her she’ll need all the luck she can get.

She checks her text messages and sure enough, there’s a string of them from a freaked out Mary Margaret regarding the wedding invitations she ordered. Or rather, ones she didn’t order. This is the second time the invitations have been delayed, otherwise, they would’ve been sent out a month ago. Well, at least now David will have a valid excuse for standing up Killian. Mary Margaret clued her fiance in on the situation with Ruby and Killian, and because he has a similar stance as her about hope and love and second chances and blah blah blah, he offered to help. (The pair’s optimism is rather annoying. Endearing, but annoying.) Thus, Emma’s plan to get a job at the bar so she could talk to Killian without it seeming like she was just another woman at the bar trying to hit on him, was hatched. 

Finding nothing which requires her immediate attention, Emma looks up from her phone, tucking it into her back pocket. Instead of rounding the corner to head back to work though, she immediately halts in her tracks, all the air leaving her lungs when she sees _him_ —the epitome of tall, dark and handsome—as he enters the bar. Her heart spikes, eyes widening as she watches him make his way across the room, his shoulders hanging low. His expression makes her heart hurt. He looks completely broken. Probably from the fight with Ruby. But the wreckage in his eyes takes nothing away from how attractive he is. 

_God, he’s gorgeous._

Emma’s suddenly very nervous and fidgety, tucking her hair behind her ear, smoothing her hands over the front of her slim jeans and ironing out the wrinkles in her red, button-down blouse. She unsnaps a couple buttons, exposing some cleavage, but then, twisting her lips with indecisiveness, she snaps the buttons into place.

 _Oh, screw it._ She unbuttons them again. She’s supposed to be his distraction. 

She returns behind the bar counter, keeping herself occupied to avoid the temptation of staring at the handsome man taking a seat at the bar. She takes some orders, trying to steady her hands as she’s making some cocktails. She sneaks a peek when she suspects it's safe to do so and catches him burying his face in his hands.

_Poor guy._

Emma really wants to tell Ruby she can’t go through with this, even more so since she found out who her ex is. But that would mean breaking the contract. She empathizes with the guy, and knowing he’s the same man she’d fantasized about for two months makes it worse. Scratch that, knowing he’s a god in bed and how big his dick is makes it worse. Now, seeing him again after that time had passed only reminds her of how good-looking he is. Not that she forgot.

She’s not even sure she can go through with her grand plan. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone Killian. And she’s only ever talked to him for like two seconds. She’s so fucked.

Taking a deep breath while tucking some hair behind her ears again, she clears her throat and strides over to him, her heart thumping in her ear. She straightens her clothing once more before placing her hands on the counter directly in front of him. “Did you come here just to mope on my counter?” she teases, throwing on a cheeky smirk, thankful her voice didn’t give out on her. “Or did you come here to drink?”

“Listen, I've had a terrible day,” he mumbles into his palms, but she can detect that rich, British accent she remembers from two months ago, and shudders. 

She should’ve put the pieces together when Ruby had told her the ex was heading back to England, but maybe she just didn’t want to think about the possibility that this man was him. She didn’t want it to be true. 

He drags his hands down his face, still grumbling. “Actually, this entire week has been fucking he—” His silky, accented words hang in the air when he looks up, his eyes flickering with recognition when they connect with hers. She swears she can hear him suck in a breath as his mouth hangs open. He flicks his tongue along the inside his cheek as if to say, _well, well, well if it isn't the bitch from the elevator._ A variety of expressions fleet across his features—intrigue, surprise, perhaps a hint of attraction, or so she’s hoping. She has to tighten her hands around the edge of the counter to keep from falling, those stunning blue eyes knocking the wind out of her. And she’s definitely not imaging what else he could be flicking that sinful tongue at. She clenches her thighs to ease some of the tension she feels under his fascinated gaze. 

He wags a finger at her. “I remember you. You’re the woman who barrelled into me on the elevator.”

_Ha, I knew it!_

She glares at him hotly, placing a hand on her hip. “Yeah because you were blocking the entrance to said elevator.” 

He frowns. “Aye, to keep the doors open for you when I saw you coming. I was being a gentleman.”

She scoffs.

“And need I remind you, I picked up your phone and handed it to you?” he points out smugly.

“As you should've since you were the reason I dropped it in the first place.” She cocks her head, lifting a challenging brow.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “There’s no chance of me winning this, is there?”

Emma crosses her arms over her chest, a slight smirk tugging her lips. “Nope.”

“Well, the next time I see a gorgeous woman running toward the elevator, I’ll make sure to step off so the doors can close before she gets there. Even if it means she has to wait for it to return to her floor.” He shrugs and crosses his arms over the counter, leaning over it. “And if she’s on her phone and runs into the doors, well, that’s her fault. Is that what you’d rather have me do, love?”

The endearment sends goosebumps over her skin as she leans over the counter, their faces only inches away from each other. “Fine, you get a point for keeping the doors open. But not for picking up my phone.”

Amusement dances across his features as he cracks a smile. “I’ll take what I can get.”

A victory grin crosses her lips, her eyes hooked on his. For a moment, she just stares at him, raw, magnetic energy suffocating the surrounding air. 

A rowdy bunch enters the bar, along with their boisterous hooting and hollering and she remembers herself again and straightens, clutching at the edge of the counter. “So, whatcha drinking tonight?”

“What do you recommend for a man who just got his heart ripped out and torn to bits in a blender like a strawberry smoothie?” Despair etches his features again and her heart tightens, though she knows it’s not nearly as painful as what he’s feeling. She knows all too well what he’s going through.

“Ouch, I guess you weren't joking when you said you had a rough week.”

“Rough doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grumbles bitterly.

She purses her lips in thought, rubbing her chin as she decides what drink to suggest. “Something strong I take it?”

“Please.”

“Tequila Slammers usually work for me, but I might have something more up your alley. Can I see some identification?”

He cocks a brow. “Seriously? I come here all the time. Your boss is one of my best mates.”

She offers up an apologetic smile and a shrug. “Sorry, I’m required by law, and I don’t want to get fired on my first day. Besides, for someone who frequents this place a lot, you should already know the selection Robin keeps in stock.”

“I do, but since you’re new, I have to put your bartending skills and knowledge of alcohol to the test,” he says with a playful wink. 

“Ah, a challenge? I’m always up for a challenge.” Her lips curve into a dramatic smirk. “Still need to see some identification, though.”

He blows out an exasperated sigh, dragging his wallet from his leather jacket, pulling out his i.d. and handing it to her. She scans his date of birth, doing the math in her head and gives it back. He’s 28 and his birthday’s January 26th. _Good to know._

“First day, huh?” he asks, slipping his i.d. into his wallet before returning the wallet into his pocket. “I wondered why I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah, I needed a side job.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you do?”

Emma hesitates before answering. She doesn’t want to lie to him, but she has to focus on the goal because otherwise, she’ll end up on a slippery slope. “I own a small home improvement company.” It’s not a complete lie. Okay, it is, _but_ she has the required education, and an updated Residential Builders license; she just hasn’t put either to much use since her grandparents passed away, which halted pretty much all of her plans and dimmed her ambitions to actually own and run her own home improvement company. But if she’s making Ruby look like a saint, she has to lie to Killian. And she really hates that. She hates this situation Ruby and Mary Margaret put her in; they sort of cornered Emma, wedging her in between a rock and a hard place. 

“Really?” he asks in surprise.

“What? You think because I’m a woman, I can’t get my hands dirty with good old-fashioned, hard work?” she asks defensively.

“I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised you have the time to own your own business _and_ tend a bar.”

“I manage.” Emma shrugs. “Why don’t I get you that drink,” she says, desperate to change the subject. She places a glass tumbler on the bar top and spins around, dashing to a cabinet where she knows Robin stashes the good liquor. She can feel Killian’s eyes burning into her backside as she reaches up to grab a bottle of Bacardi Superior. 

When she turns around again to pour his glass, she catches him staring at her, confirming her suspicions. Her cheeks warm and she fights off a triumphant grin as his eyes drop to the drink she’s pouring him. 

“Very impressive,” he comments with genuine pride. “You could’ve gone for whiskey but instead, you chose my favorite brand of my favorite liquor. How did you know?”

She shrugs nonchalantly, sliding over the glass of rum to him. “Drowning your sorrows in rum is an excellent remedy for being cheated on.”

Devastation clouds his features again, and she immediately regrets her statement. It’s a sore topic. 

She shouldn’t have brought it up, especially since they’re technically still strangers; they haven’t officially exchanged names yet. But she can’t exactly tell him she obtained pertinent details from Ruby, (along with some extremely intimate and _very_ _unnecessary_ ones) like his affinity for rum, now can she? 

“But I never said I was cheated on. There are many other things that can lead to a broken heart.”

“True, but you’re kind of an open book, and I’m actually quite perceptive.” 

He takes a sip of his drink before setting down the glass, still clutching onto it, his eyes furrowing as he studies her for a moment. “You’re friends with Mary Margaret. And knowing her, or rather, what I’ve gathered about her, she can’t keep a secret to save her life. That’s not perception, darling, that’s listening to gossip.”

She wrinkles her brows. “How do you know I’m friends with her?”

“Because, when we ran into each other on the elevator, you mentioned that her neurotic behavior was the reason why you were on your phone. Ruby had often described Mary Margaret in a similar fashion. Plus you showed me the text from an MM, so I put the pieces together.” He lifts his glass, pointing a finger at her and cocking his head from side to side as he adds very smugly, “That, my love, is what you call _perception.”_

Her mouth opens in protest, but anything she'd planned to say is immediately lost to the clever smirk he’s donning before he lifts his glass to those sensuous looking lips and takes a victory drink. She’d never wanted to smack a grin off someone’s face so badly in her life. She has to leave to help other customers, but it gives her time to calm down and think. She has to think of a way to respond to that, but she’s so flustered and infuriated at the same time, she can’t think straight. She’s only known him very briefly and already he’s managed to crawl his way under her skin, in more ways than one. 

After serving a few patrons, she returns to Killian, wiping down the bar counter. “So, what do you do for a living? Other than pester bartenders,” she slips in, taking a jab at him.

There he goes again, flicking his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he sets her with a sarcastic glare. _Good God,_ that thing should be illegal. 

“I’m an architect. But I’m guessing you already know that too.”

Damn, this guy’s good.

“Maybe. But still, I wanted to be polite by asking you about yourself. Is that so bad?”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his throat, penetrating her ears so deliciously she can feel all the way in her toes. “You're a lot like Tequila. Sweet on the tongue but burns all the way down.”

She rolls her eyes in annoyance, but at least he didn't compare her to a car. “How do you know I'm sweet on the tongue?” she asks cheekily, placing a hand on her hip.

A ridiculously sultry grin crawls over his ridiculously handsome face, making the pulse of her heart stagger. “While I do imagine you would be sweet on the tongue,” he says, swiping his tongue across his lips, “I was referring to your _act of chivalry_ followed up with an insult.”

She has to run away again and busy herself with tasks to recover from the comment and the way he casually licked his lips. 

“I work at Fisher’s,” he says when she hands a drink to the guy sitting next to him. 

She looks at him, arching a brow in curiosity. “What got you into architecture?”

“Well, I’ve always had a knack for drawing. I got my creativity from my mum, but unlike what you do, I enjoy working from scratch. Which is not to crap on your craft, love, we’re just different in that way. How did you get into home improvement?”

“My grandparents. They were house flippers, and I wanted to carry on the family business after they died.”

A doleful look clouds his features. “Sorry to hear, love.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “Continuing the business was the plan at least. But it reminded me too much of them, made me miss them more, you know? So I had to separate myself from it all and take some time to grieve. Then I ended up starting my own business.” That was also the plan, but it didn’t exactly happen that way.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to keep doing what you love,” he smiles optimistically.

“Yeah,” she breathes, guilt and regret coiled in the pit of her stomach.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the sound of his phone buzzing on the counter pulls him from his thoughts. He looks at the screen and sighs. “Of course,” he mutters to himself.

“What’s wrong?” she asks in concern, even though she knows who the text is from.

“I got a text from David. He invited me here tonight. Wanted to help make me feel better because of what happened with Ruby. I think he felt bad because Mary Margaret is friends with her.”

She nods in understanding, offering a slight smile. “Sounds like him.”

“Aye, except he canceled on me. Said he had to help Mary Margaret with some wedding invitation crisis.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of the crisis,” Emma laughs. “She’s been blowing up my phone since I’ve been at work.”

Killian sighs. “That's another one of my plans falling through.”

“Oh yeah? What were the other plans?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve taken up too much of your time already. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

Emma opens her mouth to tell him he’s not at all a burden, but Robin interrupts her attempt when he emerges from his office.

“Hey, there he is!” he greets cheerily, approaching the counter as he glances between Killian and Emma, sensing he’s interrupting something. “I see you’ve two been acquainted?”

“Aye,” Killian manages a slight smile. “I didn’t realize you hired a new bartender.”

“It happened quite fast after I found out she needed another job. How’s she treating you?”

“Like family,” he answers, his eyes locked with hers. “She even knew what kind of rum I prefer.”

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Robin boasts proudly with a grin. “She’s perceptive too.”

The look on Killian’s face is priceless and the smile overtaking her lips is so smug, even she’s feeling the urge to slap it off herself.

“Aye, she is,” Killian answers, donning a sarcastic smirk.

“You aren't bringing down my new help with sob stories about your ex, are you?” 

Killian’s brows furrow in mock offense. “No, of course not. I even dodged one of her questions to avoid that.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Oh please, I’m used to hearing sob stories. This isn’t my first bartending job.” 

“I know. You can handle yourself, I’m not worried,” Robin smiles and walks away to make his rounds, greeting the regulars and welcoming the newcomers. He knows how to work a crowd—it’s one of the many reasons his bar does so well.

Emma reverts her attention to Killian and sees him draining his glass and setting it down curtly. “Can I get another one, love?” 

She nods and makes another glass for him, placing it in front of him. He’d taken his time with the first drink, but this one he downs in one impressive gulp before slamming it down on the bar top.

She arches a brow. “Easy there, tiger. You keep that up and you’re going to feel awful in the morning.”

“I’ll feel awful anyway,” he groans.

Emma purses her lips. “True, but I can think of a way that might make you feel better without the nasty hangover.”

Killian cocks a brow, intrigued. “And what’s that, darling?”

She smirks. “Just trust me. I get off soon. Meet me outside?”

Killian looks her over, a dubious look on his face. “Look, um…” Killian scratches behind his ear, pausing in hesitation for a second as his cheeks turn pink. “You seem really nice and all, and in other circumstances, I’d definitely take you up on the offer, but, I’m not really in the mood to—”

“To what? Have sex?” Emma laughs and shakes her head. “That’s not what I was offering, but it’s good to know I’d have a chance if you didn’t just go through an awful breakup. I do have to give you points for turning down sex so soon after your breakup. You just put Ross Geller to shame.”

Killian’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t follow the reference.”

She raises a brow. “You’ve never watched Friends?”

“Afraid not, love. I was more of a Seinfeld guy.”

Emma gasps. “That’s it. We can’t be friends anymore.”

Killian chuckles. “So we’re friends now?”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling from ear to ear. “Not anymore.”

Killian pouts, and it’s just about the most adorable thing she’s ever witnessed before. Like more adorable than babies, kittens and puppies.

“Okay, fine, I suppose we can be friends.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Emma.”

“I know, love; it says on your name tag,” he chuckles.

“And I already know yours is Killian from Mary Margaret and your i.d. but if we’re going to be friends, we have to be formally introduced, don’t you agree?”

He nods and slips his palm into hers. “I’m Killian. Nice to meet you, love.”

 _Oh god,_ his hand is so warm and feels like heaven in hers; her heart flutters as she manages a weak smile and shakes it. “Nice to meet you too, Killian.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I hadn't realized how long it's been since I updated this story until I saw the date I last posted, which was May of 2020!!! I'm so sorry it's been so long. A lot has happened since then and I know I've probably lost some readers, but for those of you who have stuck around, thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoy the chapter ♥️

“Hold on, love.” Killian steps back as he eyes Granny’s diner like he’s staring his worst nightmare in the face. He glances at Emma as confusion furrows her brows. “This is where you’re taking me?”

She nods. “Yeah. They have the best strawberry cheesecake pancakes. Trust me—a sugar coma is way better than an alcohol coma.”

His expression clouds with hesitation as he shakes his head. “I can’t go in. Ruby works here.”

“Not tonight.”

Killian lifts a brow. “How do you know?”

_Damn._

Emma curses herself as she keeps a straight face. Killian’s not the one who told her he went to her apartment to drop off her things; David did. “Because in the several texts Mary Margaret sent me, she mentioned Ruby was helping her with the invitations. Ruby needed a distraction.”

“Oh.” The creases in his forehead deepen. “Then why does Mary Margaret need David’s help, too?”

“I don’t know,” Emma snaps, louder than intended. Good God, this guy asks a lot of questions. “Probably because when Mary Margaret freaks out,” her eyes widen and she makes hand gestures for emphasis, “she _freaks_ out.”

Killian scratches his ear as he looks inside the diner. “Still, I’m sure everyone who works here has heard the news and I’m not sure I want to—”

Emma grabs his hand and pulls him inside, not willing to argue about it, mostly because she doesn’t have a back-up plan. She didn’t want to make it seem like she pre-orchestrated this whole thing. He relents reluctantly and lets her lead him to a booth. “I’m not taking no for an answer. If you’ve ever had their strawberry cheesecake pancakes, you would understand.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. It’s good comfort food.”

They sit across from each other, and when Ashley tries to give them menus, Emma holds up her hand to reject them. “We already know what we want. I’ll have my usual hot cocoa and he’ll have an order of strawberry cheesecake pancakes with extra everything and chocolate milk.”

Killian doesn’t argue with her about it.

“Okay.” Ashley puts on a smile which fades when she looks at Killian, her eyes clouding with sympathy. “I heard what happened between you and Ruby. I’m so sorry.”

Killian pins Emma with an _“I told you so”_ glare. She offers an apologetic smile in return. “Thanks, Ashley, but I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you don’t look—”

“It’s okay, Ash,” Emma interjects, waving off Ashley’s words with her hand. “He just needs to shove down his emotions with a heaping plate of sugar and shame, wash it down with chocolate milk, and then he’ll be perfect.”

Ashley glances between them suspiciously. “Wait, is this your way of getting back at Ruby?” she asks Killian as she points at Emma with the menus in her hand.

“No, I’m not getting back at Ruby,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. He looks at Emma. “She’s a friend.”

She’s not sure why, but her heart warms at the sentiment.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Emma asks defensively. “It is a small town, and well, we both know Ruby.”

“True, I’ve just never seen you together.”

Emma refrains from sighing in exasperation. Why is everyone a fucking detective all of a sudden?

Maybe Killian was right—they should’ve gone somewhere else.

“We just met tonight,” Killian says. “She works at the Rabbit Hole, now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Ashley says in surprise.

“Can we get that hot cocoa and those pancakes now?” Emma asks impatiently, growing frustrated and a little panicked. This is exactly why she always meets her targets outside of town where people don't know her and won't ask a bunch of prying questions.

“Of course. Coming right up,” she assures before walking away.

Ashley returns a moment later with their beverages. Killian just stares blankly at his chocolate milk as Emma dips her finger in the whipped cream from her hot cocoa and brings it to her mouth, sucking off the sugary substance. Expecting Killian to watch her, she’s kind of disappointed when he doesn’t. Licking the whipped cream off her finger is a foolproof tactic that always garner’s the guy’s attention no matter what. But apparently not with Killian. Instead, he leans his elbows on the table and looks around like he’s afraid Ruby will suddenly pop into the diner at any moment.

This is going to be harder than she originally speculated.

“Look, if it really bothers you to be here, we can go somewhere else,” she sighs in retreat.

“No, it’s fine,” he says gloomily. “It’s just…” His words trail off and the earlier despair she’d witnessed on his face reappears. “This is where Ruby and I met,” he explains with a sad smile. “I came here after moving into my new apartment all day and she was my waitress.” His eyes shine with unshed tears as he recalls the night he met her like it were yesterday. “I’d had the worst day; nothing went as it was supposed to. But when I sat down at this exact booth, Ruby came over to me with the brightest smile on her face and she instantly cheered me up.” A tear slips from Killian’s eyes—a tear she could tell he was trying to fight back. “And um, we just hit it off. Her shift was ending soon, so after she clocked out, she sat across from me and we talked for hours.”

More tears slide down his cheeks. “I’ll never forget that night, no matter how much I want to forget it. No matter how much the image of seeing her with…” He pauses, his hands fisting on the table, his teeth gritting, “with my best friend.” An unexpected sob escapes him as he drops his face in his hands, and Emma scans the diner, wondering if anyone heard, but only a few customers glance over and then return their attention to either their food or the person sitting in front of them. 

When Killian cries into his palms, Emma’s heart breaks for him. He really liked Ruby—or _loved;_ she doesn’t really know—but she could sense how torn up he was over being cheated on by her. His cries become louder and his body jerks and trembles as inhuman sounds wretch from his throat. Emma’s heart is gripped with emotion; she can feel the sadness he’s expressing from across the table. She hates seeing him like this, and it has nothing to do with the show he’s displaying for the diner patrons. 

Responding on instinct, she jumps from her seat, hurries to his side of the booth, and sits next to him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. She looks around, giving the customers who are staring a slight, apologetic smile. Normally she would never dream of sitting on the same side of the table with someone while the seat across from them is empty, but this is one of those rare exceptions.

Killian takes her off guard when he thrusts his head against her chest and winds his arms around her, sobbing into her shirt. Emma’s eyes widen in shock as she brings both hands to his back, one giving him a gentle pat. Other than that, she has no idea what to do. What do you tell someone you just met that will make them feel better when they’re sobbing uncontrollably? She can’t tell him everything will be okay, can she? 

She peers down at him, wondering how things escalated so quickly. She’d brought him to this diner specifically so the memories of Ruby would unleash the emotions he hasn’t yet expressed, hoping he would open up to her. She expected a current and maybe a little mist, but she didn’t expect the fucking dams to break. 

Emma’s blouse and chest become damp from his tears as she cards a hand through his hair, feeling him tremble in her arms. She had unfastened the first few buttons a while ago, so her chest is soaked too, and his head is cradled just above her breasts.

Not that she’s complaining.

Emma gently turns her head to look for Ashley, not wanting her to freak out over seeing him break down like he is, and when she sees their waitress approaching, she whispers to Killian, “Ashley’s coming over here.”

He sniffles and lifts his head, wiping the tears from his face and whispering a thanks.

Emma picks up a wrapped silverware set and removes the napkin, offering it to Killian.

“Bloody hell, love. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles in apology as he wipes his tears with the napkin.

Ashley arrives at their table, dropping off the plate of pancakes. “Strawberry cheesecake pancakes with extra everything. Anything else I can get—” She pauses when she catches Killian’s face. “Are you okay?”

He nods and wipes under his eyes with the napkin. “Aye. I’m fine. Just got something in my eye is all.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, obviously not believing him. And judging by the stink-eye Ashley’s giving her, Emma can tell she doesn’t believe she and Killian are only friends.

“He’ll be fine once he eats his pancakes,” Emma assures her.

“All right, well, let me know if there’s anything else you need,” she says directly to Killian.

“Thanks, lass,” he murmurs, staring blankly at his plate. After Ashley leaves, Emma grabs a fork, scoops up a bit of pancake and brings it to his lips. “Here, try a bite.” She thinks he might refuse it, but instead, he reluctantly opens his mouth, allowing her to feed him.

_Wow, this is the weirdest date she’s ever been on._

_If you can even call it a date._

Surprisingly, he chews the food in his mouth and licks his lips.

_Oh my._

Emma has to look away and clench her thighs, trying to rid the thoughts of other things he could be doing with that tongue. Specifically, things he could be doing to _her._

“You were right, love. These pancakes are actually making me feel better.”

His statement throws her for a loop, and she whips her head toward him, lifting a brow. “Really?”

He offers a small smile. “A little.” He takes the fork from her and stabs at another piece. “But I’ll probably stop feeling better once it’s gone, so maybe you could ask Ashley to keep the pancakes coming?”

Emma manages a small laugh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ll end up feeling worse than you already do.”

He frowns. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Emma sighs into her hot cocoa and takes a sip.

_Yep, she certainly has her work cut out for her._

Emma tries to change the subject by asking what his favorite bands are, but then he veers right back into the subject of Ruby when he recalls how he went to her place to return her things, which included her CDs. He mentions it because he also had his CDs at her place, but she refused to hand them over until he was willing to let her talk. But he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to get his things and leave, but instead, he stayed and argued with her until they were both blue in the face.

Nevertheless, Emma gives him her undivided attention as he rambles on, so he feels comfortable enough to open up to her.

When he finishes the pancakes, he was right about feeling miserable again and tries to order more. Emma pays the bill before he can, and has to drag him out of the diner.

“Are you okay with driving home?” she asks when they return to the bar.

“Aye. Another benefit of having pancakes instead of rum is I can’t get drunk from pancakes.”

“Well, unless they were rum pancakes,” she points out.

His eyes light up with curiosity, and Emma gets the feeling she's created a monster. “Rum pancakes? Do they make those?”

She laughs. “Not sure, but I think the best thing to do now is sleep.”

He frowns. “I don’t know if I can. Every time I close my eyes, I picture _her_ with _him,_ and I can’t…” His voice cracks, and his eyes well with tears again.

Emma’s heart breaks. She knew he was torn up, but she really had no idea just how torn up he was. The old pancake trick didn’t work, all it did was make him want more pancakes, so she knows she’ll have to resort to drastic measures. Emma grabs his hand and hauls him down the sidewalk.

“Where are we going, love?” 

“You obviously need to release some major stress, and I know the perfect place where you can do that.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue—she doesn’t think he has enough energy to argue with her if he wanted to—and soon they’re standing in front of a building with a big sign above the door that reads, “Break Room Therapy” in bold blue letters and features an illustration of a pair of crossed sledgehammers.

Killian furrows his brows. “What is this place?”

Emma’s mouth falls open in shock. “I thought you lived in Storybrooke, and yet you’ve never been _here?”_

He shakes his head. “I see this place all the time but never knew what it really was. I always see women going in here, so I didn’t think it was a place for a lad like myself.”

Emma shakes her head. “This is a place we can go where no one will think we’re crazy if we break some shit, but it’s not just for women. We’re not the only ones who need to let off some steam sometimes.”

He cocks a brow. “Break some shit? What kind of shit?”

Emma smirks and opens the door for him, gesturing inside. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He’s hesitant, but steps inside and she follows behind him. They approach the desk where her friend, Archie, is sitting, his face buried in a book. His office has the appearance of a typical break room, a collection of Star Wars Funko Pops on his desk, a water cooler and a life-sized statue of baby Yoda standing on a mini-fridge and holding a sign that reads, “Welcome to Break Room Therapy.”

“Appointments only,” Archie says as he lifts his eyes from his book to greet the incoming customers. His lips form a big smile when he sees Emma. “Oh, hi Emma. My apologies, I didn’t realize it was you,” he says, setting the book down and rising from his seat.

“Hey, Archie,” she greets with a smile.

“Back again so soon, I see?”

Emma nods. “Uh, yeah, but not for me. She grabs Killian’s arm who has his hands shoved in his pockets, still standing by the door with an awkward look on his face. “This is my friend, Killian. He needs to use one of your rooms.”

“Oh, right, of course.” He gestures toward the chairs in front of the desk. “Please have a seat.”

Killian still looks unsure, but complies anyway, slumping into a chair next to Emma as Archie reclaims his seat across from them.

“So what brings you in tonight?” he asks Killian.

“He got cheated on by his girlfriend,” Emma answers when she suspects Killian doesn’t want to.

His face clouds with sorrow as Archie’s saddens. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, this is the right place for you, then.”

Killian furrows his brows and looks around. “What exactly is this place?”

Archie exchanges a look with Emma before returning his attention to Killian. “This is a place where you can release some of that pent up anger you’re feeling right now.” Archie looks at Emma. “Will you be joining him?”

She nods. “Yes, please.”

He prints some papers and gives Killian and Emma both a copy, pointing out for Killian with a pen where to sign and date.

Killian scans over the forms, his forehead wrinkled in confusion as he reads a line out loud. “I hereby consent to medical treatment, which may be advisable in the event of an injury?” He looks up from the document, his face awash with confusion. “Why would I need medical treatment?”

Archie casually waves a hand. “Oh, don’t worry…as long as you follow the rules and wear the protective gear properly, you should be completely fine.”

The furrow in Killian’s brows deepens. “Why would I need protective gear?”

“To protect yourself so you don’t get broken shards in your eyes or skin, of course.”

Killian’s eyes flicker with panic. “Why would I have to worry about that?”

“Just sign it, Killian,” Emma huffs in irritation as she hands Archie her signed papers.

He puts up a hand of dismissal. “Now, now, Emma. Killian must consent to the terms voluntarily.”

“This is supposed to help me feel better?” Killian asks, still uncertain about this entire thing.

“Yes, just trust me. I come here all the time to release stress. It works like a charm. And it’s a lot of fun.”

Killian considers her words and scans over the documents once more before scribbling his signature. “Fine. I can’t possibly feel worse than I do already.” He hands Archie the signed papers.

“That’s the spirit,” Emma chants, clapping her hands.

“Excellent,” Archie says with a grin. “Let’s get you suited up.”

They rise, and Archie leads them to the equipment and protective gear. After some quick instructions, he asks them which weapons they prefer.

With each of them wearing a face shield, Killian holding a sledgehammer and Emma carrying a baseball bat, they head to one of the rooms.

“Have a smashing good time,” Archie quips and closes the door, standing outside the caged window to monitor and take pictures. The walls are made of OSB and the floor is marked up with black duct tape. There’s a round table in the center of the room with a flatscreen computer monitor situated upright.

“After you,” Emma says, gesturing toward the monitor.

Killian looks at her, still unsure. “I just smash it?”

She gives a nod. “You just smash it.”

Killian raises the hammer into the air with both hands, and with a shaky breath, he strikes the monitor with hesitant force, barely making a dent.

“Come on, Killian, you can do better than that. Just think about how angry Ruby made you when you saw her fucking your best friend. Just let yourself feel that rage and release it.” Before Emma’s done speaking, he smashes the computer again with a more powerful force than before.

“That’s it. Just let it out!” she encourages.

So he does. He turns the monitor over, so the screen is facing the ceiling, and strikes it with the sledgehammer, smashing the screen with a groan. He shatters the rest of the glass into a million pieces, much like Ruby did to his heart. But he doesn’t stop there; he strikes the computer over and over and over again until it’s nothing but a mangled and mutilated piece of scrap.

He has to pause to steady his breathing.

“Feel better?” she asks with a laugh.

“Actually, yes, that does feel quite good. What’s next?”

“Easy, tiger. It’s my turn.” Emma sets down the bat, grabs a plate from the crate of breakable items and tosses it across the room, the dish shattering into the wall with a satisfying smash. Killian follows suit and sets down the hammer to pick up a glass bottle, tossing it at the wall, watching as it disintegrates into a thousand tiny pieces.

A hint of a smile appears on his lips. “This is fun, love.”

“I told you.” She tosses another plate against the wall like a frisbee.

They each take turns, smashing items with a sledgehammer or bat, or throwing them against the wall, the room filled with sounds of heavy panting, grunts and glass breaking or plastic being obliterated. While Killian releases the whirlwind of emotions resulting from his breakup and takes out his rage for Ruby and Victor on electronic equipment, Emma takes hers out on multiple dishes for having to lie to Killian, and for feeling pressured by her best friend and Ruby to do this job in the first place. She’s spent a lot of time in this same room, but most of the time she acts out the rage she will always feel for the bastard she married and trusted before he broke her heart into a million pieces.

When they’ve gone through all the items in the crate, they both have to catch their breaths, adrenaline pumping through them, Emma’s heart pounding mercilessly in her chest. For acts that may seem so violent, smashing items with someone else feels very intimate and exhilarating for reasons she can’t really explain. They both expressed a side of each other they don’t normally show.

“Wow, that was…” he breathes, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“A good way to work off those pancakes while releasing some steam at the same time, huh?”

“Aye, it really was,” he chuckles.

They leave the room and remove their protective gear. 

“Thanks, Archie, that was a blast...or should I say, _smash!”_ Emma quips.

“Aye, thank you,” Killian says to him appreciatively. “That actually helped a lot.”

Archie grins. “Good, I’m glad. Come back anytime.” He waves at them as they head out the door.

“Wow, that really was therapeutic,” Killian says as they reach her car, both of them facing each other. “Thank you for bringing me there. And for the pancakes.”

“Of course. What are friends for?” she adds with a wink.

“No, really, I mean it,” he says sincerely. “I felt like complete shit tonight and you managed to make me smile and laugh and feel like myself again.”

She waves off his words. “It was nothing. I’m just glad you feel better than you did.”

“I do, thanks to you.”

“Killian—” she attempts in a tone that is meant to tell him he really doesn’t have to thank her.

“Seriously, Emma, I could kiss you right now,” he chuckles. “I mean, I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

Emma gulps as she stares at his lips, wondering what they would feel like if he did kiss her. She immediately squashes the thought and lifts her eyes to gaze into those crystal blue orbs instead. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

Killian steps into her space and raises a hand to her face. Her breath catches when his thumb caresses her cheek. She thinks he might actually kiss her. “Do you believe in fate?”

His question throws her for a loop and she opens her mouth, uttering a nonsensical sound as she tries to figure out how to respond to that. “Um, no, not really.”

“Well, I do. I believe we were destined to meet.”

Guilt flares inside Emma, her throat closing up. If only he knew this wasn’t destiny or fate or a fortunate stroke of serendipity. Well, meeting him at the elevator a couple of months ago was a sheer coincidence, but tonight was pre-orchestrated, and not by the universe; it was planned by _her,_ and if he found out, she doubts he would want anything to do with her. It pains her to know he’ll hate her guts after this is all over. But she won’t blame him one bit. 

Before she gets the chance to respond, he leans in and kisses her cheek.

All of the air leaves her lungs when his lips touch her skin, her brain becomes mush and she closes her eyes, trying not to dissolve into a puddle.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, his voice cracking, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“But if us meeting each other was actually part of some predetermined plan, then wouldn't we run into each other again without having to make plans?”

He chuckles. “Perhaps.” He becomes quiet as his eyes grow serious. “But maybe I'm not willing to take that chance.”

Her throat becomes dry as sandpaper. She was not expecting an answer like that. He's the one who brought up the possibility of fate being on their side, yet he's not willing to take the chance he's wrong. Even though he knows where she works and where her friends live. 

Now she knows why Ruby fell for him. Well, she kind of already figured it out, but now she knows it was more than just his charming good looks, his boyish grin or his penis size.

“Um, yeah. Okay,” she answers against her better judgment. This is all going faster than she’d expected. She meant to part ways without making plans, and instead run into him “accidentally” again, but now she’s finding it impossible to deny his request. Besides, if they did run into each other “accidentally” then, for him, it would only solidify his belief that fate brought them together, and she'd feel horrible about that. Even more horrible than she already feels. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

He offers a sly grin, his tongue flirting with his lips. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Well played.” She reaches out her hand. “Let me see your phone.”

He takes it out and unlocks it before handing the device to her without hesitation.

She plugs in her phone number and sends herself a text so she’ll recognize the number when he calls. She hands it back to him. “There, now you have my phone number, and I have yours.”

“Thanks, love.” He tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Are you good to drive?”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? Smashing that computer sobered me up real quick. But I didn’t have a lot to drink to begin with, thanks to you,” he adds with a smirk.

She nods and feels her cheeks warm at the way he looks at her. “That’s true.”

He goes around her to open the driver’s door. _God,_ this guy really knows how to make a woman feel special, even one he's not dating.

“This isn’t even a date and you’re still a gentleman,” she teases with a playful smirk.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he says with a cheeky grin. A grin so cheeky, her heart staggers. “Goodnight, Emma. Thanks again for tonight.”

“Night,” she murmurs, her heart clenching at the thought of leaving him. When he shuts the door, their eyes are still locked through the window, and the door that separates them doesn’t seem to help her at all, because her heart is pounding, and her breaths are shallow as his eyes pierce right through her.

He waves, and she waves back at him before starting her car. He finally turns and walks to his truck, his hands in his pockets as she watches him. Her heart squeezes in her chest when he increases the distance between them. She has to leave so he doesn’t think she’s just sitting there staring at him, which she definitely is.

She pulls away from the curb and drives away, hating herself for leaving him. But she has no idea why it hurts so much. She just met him a few hours ago. Well technically she met him a couple of months ago, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, this guy is already clawing his way inside her heart, trying to make a home there and making her second guess her decision to help Ruby out. Why is it the one time she finds a guy she actually likes, he has to be one of the guys she’s trying to get back together with his girlfriend?

If destiny actually does exist, then it must be mocking her. 

Or perhaps this job is destiny’s way of helping her protect her own heart. Because if she can’t have anything real with him, then she can’t actually get hurt.

_Right?_

**Author's Note:**

> The Break Room Therapy was inspired by a real place in Byron Center, Michigan, where you can go and break some shit. I've never been there but it sounds like a good way to release some steam.


End file.
